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JOHNSONIANA : 
7 

A COLLECTION OF 
MISCELLANEOUS ANECDOTES AND SAYINGS 



DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON, 



GATHERED FROM 



NEARLY A HUNDRED DIFFERENT PUBLICATIONS. 



PRINTED SEPARATELY, FROM CROKER'S EDITION OF 
BOSWELL'S LIFE OF JOHNSON. 



LONDON : 
HENRY G. BOHN,YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN. 

1845. 



Fite S3"?. 

111* 



NOTICE. 



These Ana form a sequel to all editions of Boswell's 
Life of Johnson, but more particularly to that published 
in eight volumes, uniform with the present. 

The Editor, after preparing them for the press, 
feels more than ever satisfied as to the arrangement 
ultimately adopted with respect to the scattered John- 
soniana of BoswelTs friends and rivals. In the notes 
to the preceding volumes, he has presented all those 
slwrt passages of other writers, which seemed to bear 
decidedly on the statements in Boswell's text : in 
these volumes the reader has presented to him a mass 
of miscellaneous Anecdotes and Sayings, gathered 
from nearly a hundred different publications ; which 
could not have been produced as notes to Boswell, 
without overloading and perplexing his pages, but 
which are essential to the completion of the intellectual 
portrait of Johnson. 

Taken by themselves alone, these Ana might, it 
is presumed, claim a place with the best books of 
that popular description, in our own or in any other 



VI NOTICE. 

language. They form, it will hardly be disputed, one 
of the richest collections of Materials for Thinking 
that can be pointed out in literature ; and constitute, 
eminently, a Manual such as Johnson himself was so 
fond of — " one of those 'portable books, that you may 
carry to the fireside, and hold readily in your hand — 
the most useful after all." 

The beautiful head of Mrs. Piozzi, which faces the 
title-page of this volume, is from Sir Joshua Reynolds's 
portrait ; which, on the dispersion of the Streatham 
Gallery, passed into the hands of that accomplished 
lover of art and literature, Samuel Boddington, Esq. 
and which was never before engraved. 



JOHNSONIANA— CONTENTS. 



ANECDOTES AND SAYINGS OF JOHNSON:— 



Part I. by Mrs. Piozzi . 

II. — Sir John Hawkins 

III. — Thomas Tyers, Esq. 

IV. — J. Hoole, Esq. 

V. — George Stevens, Esq. 
VI. — Miss Reynolds 
VII. — Mr. Cumberland . 
VIII. — Mr. Cradock . 
IX. — Mr. Wickins . 

X. — Mr. Green, of Lichfiel 
XI. — Rev. Mr. Parker . 
XII. — Mrs. Rose 

XIII. — William Seward, Esq. 

XIV. — Ozias Humphry, R.A, 
XV. — Sir Joshua Reynolds 



XVI. — Madame D'Arblay 



XVII. — 

XVIII. — 

XIX. — 

XX. — 

XXI. — 



Dr. Beattie . 
The Right Hon. W 
Hannah More 
Bishop Horne 
xorthcote 



XXII. — Miss Seward . 



XXIII. 

XXIV. 

XXV. 



Parr 

Baretti 

Percy 



XXVI. — Lady Knight 



Wn 



Vol. 1. 



XXVII. — Stockdale 
XXVIII. — Miss Hawkins 

XXIX. XlCHOLS . 

XXX. — Murphy. 
XXXI. Critical Remarks by Drake 
XXXII. Anecdotes, Opinions, and Remarks 
Various Persons 

XXXIII. Jeux d'Esprit on Johnson's Biographers . 

XXXIV. Memoir of Boswell; Extracts from his 

Letters, &c. &c. 



PAGE 1 
. 128 

. 168 
. 178 
, 192 
. 202 
. 228 
. 236 
. 245 
. 248 
. 249 
. 252 
. 255 
. 257 
. 259 
. 273 
. 304 
. 308 
. 318 
. 330 
1 
9 
22 
35 
40 
48 
51 
56 
62 
66 
16 



OL. 2. 



96 
182 

203 



J0HNS0N1ANA. 



Part I. 

ANECDOTES OF DR. JOHNSON, 
BY MRS. PIOZZI. 

[Published in 1785.] 



1. Introductory. 

I am aware that many will say, I have not spoken 
highly enough of Dr. Johnson ; but it will be difficult 
for those who say so, to speak more highly. If I have 
described his manners as they were, I have been careful 
to show his superiority to the common forms of common 
life. It is surely no dispraise to an oak that it does 
not bear jessamine ; and he who should plant honey- 
suckle round Trajan's column, would not be thought to 
adorn, but to disgrace it. When I have said, that he 
was more a man of genius than of learning, I mean 
not to take from the one part of his character that 

B 



2 JOHNSONIANA. 

which I willingly give to the other. The erudition of 
Mr. Johnson proved his genius ; for he had not ac- 
quired it by long or profound study : nor can 1 think 
those characters the greatest which, have most learning 
driven into their heads, any more than I can persuade 
myself to consider the river Jenisca as superior to the 
Nile, because the first receives near seventy tributary 
streams in the course of its unmarked progress to the sea, 
while the great parent of African plenty, flowing from 
an almost invisible source, and unenriched by any ex- 
traneous waters, except eleven nameless rivers, pours 
his majestic torrent into the ocean by seven celebrated 
mouths. 

2. Bodily Exercises, 
Mr. Johnson was very conversant in the art of attack 
and defence by boxing, which science he had learned 
from his uncle Andrew ( x ), I believe ; and I have heard 
him descant upon the age when people were received, and 
when rejected, in the schools once held for that brutal 
amusement, much to the admiration of those who had 
no expectation of his skill in such matters, from the 
sight of a figure which precluded all possibility of per- 
sonal prowess ; though, because he saw Mr. Thrale 
one day leap over a cabriolet stool, to show that he was 
not tired after a chase of fifty miles or more, he sud- 
denly jumped over it too ; but in a way so strange and 
so unwieldy, that our terror lest he should break his 
bones took from us even the power of laughing. 

3. Showing off Children. 
The trick which most parents play with their children, 
of showing off their newly-acquired accomplishments, 
disgusted Mr. Johnson beyond expression : he had been 
treated so himself, he said, till he absolutely loathed 
his father's caresses, because he knew they were sure 

{!) \ See ante, Vol. I. p. 31 2. J 



piozzi. 3 

to precede some unpleasing display of his early abili- 
ties; and he used, when neighbours came o' visiting, to 
run up a tree that he might not be found and exhi- 
bited, such, as no doubt he was, a prodigy of early 
understanding. His epitaph upon the duck he killed 
by treading on it at five years old, " Here lies poor 
duck/' &c. is a striking example of early expansion of 
mind, and knowledge of language ; yet he always seemed 
more mortified at the recollection of the bustle his 
parents made with his wit, than pleased with the thoughts 
of possessing it. " That," said he to me one day, 
lg is the great misery of late marriages; the unhappy 
produce of them becomes the plaything of dotage : an 
old man's child," continued he, " leads much such a 
life, I think, as a little boy's dog, teased with awkward 
fondness, and forced, perhaps, to sit up and beg, as we 
call it, to divert a company, who at last go away com- 
plaining of their disagreeable entertainment." In con- 
sequence of these maxims, and full of indignation 
against such parents as delight to produce their young 
ones early into the talking world, I have known Mr. 
Johnson give a good deal of pain, by refusing to hear 
the verses the children could recite, or the songs they 
could sing ; particularly one friend who told him that 
his two sons should repeat Gray's elegy to him alter- 
nately, that he might judge who had the happiest ca- 
dence. e( No, pray Sir," said he, (( let the dears both 
speak it at once ; more noise will by that means be 
made, and the noise will be sooner over." 

4. Parson Ford. 
Mr. Johnson always spoke to me of his cousin, . the 
Rev. Mr. Ford( 1 ), with tenderness, praising his ac- 
quaintance with life and manners, and recollecting one 
piece of advice that no man surely ever followed more 

(1) TSee ante, Vol. I. p. 45. j 
B 2 



4 JOHNSONIANA. 

exactly. " Obtain/' says Ford, '* some general prin- 
ciples of every science; he who can talk only on one sub- 
ject, or act only in one department, is seldom wanted, 
and perhaps never wished for ; while the man of general 
knowledge can often benefit, and always please/' He 
used to relate, however, another story less to the credit 
of his cousin's penetration, how Ford on some occasion 
said to him, u You will make your way the more easily 
in the world, I see, as you are contented to dispute no 
man's claim to conversation excellence; they will, there- 
fore, more willingly allow your pretensions as a writer." 

5. Johnsons Nurse. — Children s Books. 

Dr. Johnson first learned to read of his mother and 
her old maid Catharine, in whose lap he well remem- 
bered sitting while she explained to him the story of 
St. George and the Dragon. The recollection of such 
reading as had delighted him in his infancy, made him 
always persist in fancying that it was the only reading 
which could please an infant ; and he used to condemn 
me for putting Newbery's books into their hands as 
too trifling to engage their attention. " Babies do not 
w r ant," said he., e( to hear about babies ; they like to 
be told of giants and castles, and of somewhat which 
can stretch and stimulate their little minds." When in 
answer I would urge the numerous editions and quick 
sale of Tommy Prudent or Goody Two Shoes : " Re- 
member always," said he, " that the parents buy the 
books, and that the children never read them." Mrs. 
Barbauld, however, had his best praise ( ] ), and deserved 
it ; no man was more struck than Mr. Johnson with 
voluntary descent from possible splendour to painful 
duty. 

(l") This is not consistent with his opinion before recorded. 
(ante, Vol. VI. p. 28.) of this lady's work for the instruction of 
youth. — C. 



PIOZZI. o 

6. Dreams and Ghosts. 
I have heard him relate an odd thing of himself, 
Din it is one which every body has heard as well as I : 
now, when he was about nine years old, having got the 
piav of Hamlet in his hand, and reading it quietly in 
ms father's kitchen, he kept on steadily enough, till, 
coming to the ghost scene, he suddenly hurried up 
stairs tc the street door that he might see people about 
aim : such an incident, as he was not unwilling to re- 
late it, is probably in every one's possession now ; he 
told it as a testimony to the merits of Shakspeare : but one 
day when my son was going to school, and dear Dr. 
Johnson followed as far as the garden gate, praying for 
his salvation, in a voice which those who listened at- 
tentively could hear plain enough, he said to me sud- 
denly, u Make your boy tell you his dreams : the first 
corruption that entered into my heart was communicated 
in a dream/' " What was it, Sir ?" said I. c: Do not 
ask m a " replied he with much violence, and walked 
away m apparent agitation. I never durst make any 
further enquiries. 

?. Education of Children. 

Mr. Johnson was exceedingly disposed to the general 
indulgence of children, and was even scrupulously and 
ceremoniously attentive not to offend them : he had 
strongly persuaded himself of the difficulty people 
always find to erase early impressions either of kindness 
or resentment, and said, " he should never have so 
loved his mother when a man, had she not given him 
coffee she could ill afford, to gratify his appetite when 
a boy." 

u If you had had children, Sir," said I, " would you 
have taught them any thing ? " " I hope," replied he, 
" that I should have willingly lived on bread and water 
to obtain instruction for them ; but 1 would not have 



O J0HNS0N1ANA. 

set their future friendship to hazard, for the sake of 
thrusting into their heads knowledge of things for 
which they might not perhaps have either taste or ne- 
cessity. You teach your daughters the diameters of 
the planets, and wonder when you have done that they 
do not delight in your company. No science can be 
communicated by mortal creatures without attention 
from the scholar ; no attention can be obtained from 
children without the infliction of pain, and pain is 
never remembered without resentment." That some- 
thing should be learned, was. however so certainly his 
opinion, that I have heard him say, how education had 
been often compared to agriculture, yet that it resem- 
bled it chiefly in this : " that if nothing is sown, no 
crop," says he, cc can be obtained/' His contempt of 
the lady who fancied her son could be eminent without 
study, because Shakspeare was found wanting in scho- 
lastic learning, was expressed in terms so gross and so 
well known, I will not repeat them here. 

The remembrance of what had passed in his own 
childhood, made Mr. Johnson very solicitous to pre- 
serve the felicity of children ; and when he had per- 
suaded Dr. Sumner to remit the tasks usually given to 
fill up boys' time during the hclydays, he rejoiced ex- 
ceedingly in the success of his negotiation, and told me 
that he had never ceased representing to all the eminent 
schoolmasters in England, the absurd tyranny of poi- 
soning the hour of permitted pleasure, by keeping 
future misery before the children's eyes, and tempting 
them by bribery or falsehood to evade it. " Bob Sum- 
ner," said he, u however, I have at length prevailed 
upon : I know not indeed whether his tenderness was 
persuaded, or his reason convinced, but the effect will 
always be the same." Poor Dr. Sumner died, how- 
ever, before the next vacation. 



piozzi. 7 

8. Positive and General. 
Mr. Johnson was of opinion, too, that young people 
should have positive not general rules given for their 
direction, <( My mother/' said he, e! was always tell- 
ing me that I did not behave myself properly ; that I 
should endeavour to learn behaviour, and such cant : 
but when I replied, that she ought to tell me what to 
do, and what to avoid, her admonitions were commonly, 
for that time at least, at an end." This, I fear, was, 
however, at best a momentary refuge, found out by per- 
verseness. No man knew better than Johnson in how 
many nameless and numberless actions behaviour con- 
sists : actions which can scarcely be reduced to rule, and 
which come under no description. Of these he retained 
so many very strange ones, that I suppose no one who 
saw his odd manner of gesticulating, much blamed or 
wondered at the good lady's solicitude concerning her 
son's behaviour. 

9. Parental Authority. 

Though he was attentive to the peace of children in 
general, no man had a stronger contempt than he for 
such parents as openly profess that they cannot govern 
their children. " How/' says he, " is an army governed? 
Such people, for the most part, multiply prohibitions 
till obedience becomes impossible, and authority appears 
absurd ; and never suspect that they tease their family, 
their friends, and themselves, only because conversation 
runs lcWj and something must be said.*' 

Of parental authority, indeed, few people thought 
with a lower degree of estimation. I one day mentioned 
the resignation of Cyrus to his father's will, as related 
by Xenophon, when, after all his conquests, he re- 
quested the consent of Cambyses to his marriage with a 
neighbouring princess ; and I added RoUin's applause 
and recommendation of the example. (i Do you not 
perceive, then," says Johnson, ff that Xenophon on this 

B 4 



8 JOHNSONIANA. 

occasion commends like a pedant, and Pere Rollin 
applauds like a slave ? If Cyrus by his conquests had 
not purchased emancipation, he had conquered to little 
purpose indeed. Can you bear to see the folly of a 
fellow who has in his care the lives of thousands, when 
he begs his papa permission to be married, and con- 
fesses his inability to decide in a matter which con- 
cerns no man's happiness but his own ? " 

Mr. Johnson caught me another time reprimanding 
the daughter of my housekeeper for having sat down 
unpermitted in her mother's presence. " Why, she 
gets her living, does she not," said he, " without her 
mother's help ? Let the wench alone," continued he. 
And when we were again out of the women's sight who 
were concerned in the dispute : " Poor people's children, 
dear lady," said he, ec never respect them : I did not 
respect my own mother, though I loved her : and one 
day, when in anger she called me a puppy, I asked her 
if she knew what they called a puppy's mother ?" 

We were talking of a young fellow who used to come 
often to the house ; he was about fifteen years old, or 
less, if I remember right, and had a manner at once 
sullen and sheepish. " That lad," says Mr. Johnson, 
" looks like the son of a schoolmaster ; which," added 
he, et is one of the very worst conditions of childhood : 
such a boy has no father, or worse than none ; he never 
can reflect on his parent, but the reflection brings to his 
mind some idea of pain inflicted, or of sorrow suffered." 

10. Cultivation of Memory. 
I will relate one thing more that Dr. Johnson said 
about babyhood before I quit the subject ; it was this : 
" That little people should be encouraged always to tell 
whatever they hear particularly striking, to some 
brother, sister, or servant, immediately before the im- 
pression is erased by the intervention of newer occur- 
rences. He perfectly remembered the first time he 



pioz.zi. y 

ever heard of heaven and hell, he said, " because 
when his mother had made out such a description of 
both places as she thought likely to seize the attention 
of her infant auditor, who was then in bed with her, 
she got up, and dressing him before the usual time, sent 
him directly to call a favourite workman in the house, 
to whom she knew he would communicate the convers- 
ation while it was yet impressed upon his mind. The 
event was what she wished; and it was to that method 
chiefly that he owed his uncommon felicity of re- 
membering distant occurrences, and long past convers- 
ations. ,, 

11. Oxford. 

Dr. Johnson delighted in his own partiality for 
Oxford ; and one day, at my house, entertained five 
members of the other university with various instances 
of the superiority of Oxford, enumerating the gigantic 
names of many men whom it had produced, with ap- 
parent triumph. At last I said to him, " Why there 
happens to be no less than five Cambridge men in the 
room now." <( I did not/' said he, " think of that till 
you told me ; but the wolf don't count the sheep/' 
When the company were retired, we happened to be 
talking of Dr. Barnard, the Provost of Eton, who died 
about that time; and after a long and just eulogium on 
his wit, his learning, and his goodness of heart: " He 
was the only man, too," says Mr. Johnson quite seriously, 
et that did justice to my good breeding; and you may 
observe that I am well bred to a degree of needless 
scrupulosity. No man," continued he, not observing 
the amazement of his hearers, " no man is so cautious 
not to interrupt another; no man thinks it so necessary 
to appear attentive when others are speaking ; no man 
so steadily refuses preference to himself, or so willingly 
bestows it on another, as I do; nobody holds so strongly 
as I do the necessity of ceremony, and the ill effects 



10 J0HNSONIANA. 

which follow the breach of it: yet people think me 
rude; but Barnard did me justice." iC 'T is pity/' said I, 
laughing, " that he had not heard you compliment the 
Cambridge men after dinner to-day." 

Sir William Browne the physician,, who lived to a 
very extraordinary age ( ] ), and was in other respects 
an odd mortal, with more genius than understanding, 
and more self-sufficiency than wit, was the only person 
who ventured to oppose Mr. Johnson, when he had a 
mind to shine by exalting his favourite university, and 
to express his contempt of the whiggish notions which 
prevail at Cambridge. He did it once, however, with 
surprising felicity : his antagonist having repeated with 
an air of triumph the famous epigram written by Dr. 
Trapp, 

"Our royal master saw, with heedful eyes, 
The wants of his two universities : 
Troops he to Oxford sent, as knowing why 
That learned body wanted loyalty : 
But books to Cambridge gave, as, well discerning, 
That that right loyal body wanted learning." 

Which, says Sir WilHam, might well be answered 

thus : — 

" The king to Oxford sent his troop of horse, 
For Tories own no argument but force ; 
With equal care to Cambridge books he sent, 
For Whigs allow no force but argument." 

Mr. Johnson did him the justice to say, it was one 
of the happiest extemporaneous productions he ever 
met with ; though he once comically confessed, that he 
hated to repeat the wit of a Whig urged in support of 
whiggism. 

(1) He died in March, 1774, at the age of eighty-two. It is 
no where stated, that I know of, that this epigram was made ex- 
temporaneously on a provocation from Dr. Johnson. See an 
account of Sir William Browne, and a more accurate version 
of the two epigrams, in the Biog. Diet. — C. 



PIOZZI. 11 

12. Toryism and Garrick. 
Of Mr. Johnson's toryism the world has long been 
witness, and the political pamphlets written by him in 
defence of his party are vigorous and elegant. Says 
Garrick to him one day, " Why did not you make me a 
Tory, when we lived so much together ; you love to 
make people Tories ?" " Why," says Johnson, pulling a 
heap of halfpence from his pocket, " did not the king 
make these guineas ? " 

13. Burke. — BoswelL 
It was in the year 1775 that Mr. Edmund Burke 
made the famous speech in parliament ( J ), that struck 
even foes with admiration, and friends with delight. 
Among the nameless thousands who are contented to 
echo those praises they have not skill to invent, / 
ventured, before Dr. Johnson himself, to applaud, with 
rapture, the beautiful passage in it concerning Lord 
Bathurst and the angel (-) ; which, said our Doctor, 

(1 ) On the 22d of March, 1775, upon moving his resolutions 
for conciliation with America. 

(2) [" Mr. Speaker, I cannot prevail on myself to hurry over 
this great consideration. It is good for us to be here. We 
stand where we have an immense view of what is, and what is 
past. Clouds indeed, and darkness, rest upon the future, het 
us, however, before we descend from this noble eminence, re- 
flect that this growth of our national prosperity has happened 
within the short period of the life of man. It has happened 
within sixty- eight years. There are those alive whose memory 
might touch the two extremities. For instance, my Lord 
Bathurst might remember all the stages of the progress. He 
was in 1704 of an age at least to be made to comprehend such 
things. He was then old enough acta parentum jam legere, 
et quce sit poterit cognoscere virtus. — Suppose, Sir, that the 
angel of this auspicious youth, foreseeing the many virtues, 
which made him one of the most amiable, as he is one of the 
most fortunate, men of his age, had opened to him in vision, that, 
when, in the fourth generation, the third prince of the House 
of Brunswick had sat twelve years on the throne of that nation, 
which (by the happy issue of moderate and healing councils) 
was to be made Great Britain, he should see his son, LonJ 
Chancellor of England, turn back the current of hereditary 



12 JOHNSONIANA. 

nad I been in the house, I would have answered 
thus: — 

" Suppose. Mr. Speaker, that to Wharton, or to 
Marlborough, or to any of the eminent Whigs of the 
last age, the devil had, not with any great impropriety, 
consented to appear; he would perhaps in somewhat 
like these words have commenced the conversation : 

C( ( You seem, my Lord, to be concerned at the ju- 
dicious apprehension, that while you are sapping the 
foundations of royalty at home, and propagating here 
the dangerous doctrine of resistance ; the distance of 
America may secure its inhabitants from your arts, 
though active : but I will unfold to you the gay prospects 
of futurity. This people, now so innocent and harmless, 
shall draw the sword against their mother country, and 
bathe its point in the blood of their benefactors : this 
people, now contented with a little, shall then refuse to 
spare what they themselves confess they could not miss; 



dignity to its fountain, and raise him to a higher rank of peerage, 
whilst he enriched the family with a new one — If, amidst these 
bright and happy scenes of domestic honour and prosperity, 
that angel should have drawn up the curtain, and unfolded the 
rising glories of his country, and whilst he was gazing with ad- 
miration on the then commercial grandeur of England, the 
genius should point out to him a little speck, scarce visible in the 
mass of the national interest, a small seminal principle, rather 
than a formed body, and should tell him, — * Young man, there 
is America — which at this day serves for little more than to 
amuse you with stories of savage men and uncouth manners ; 
yet shall, before you taste of death, show itself equal to the 
whole of that commerce which now attracts the envy of the 
world. Whatever England has been growing to by a progressive 
increase of improvement, brought in by varieties of people, by 
succession of civilising conquests and civilising settlements in a 
series of seventeen hundred years, you shall see as much added 
to her by America in the course of a single life !' — if this state of 
his country had been foretold to him, would it not require all 
the sanguine credulity of youth, and all the fervid glow of en- 
thusiasm, to make him believe it? Fortunate man, he has lived 
to see it ! Fortunate, indeed, if he lives to see nothing that shall 
vary the prospect, and cloud the setting of his day ! " Part, 
Hist vol.xviii. p. 487.] 



piozzi. 13 

and these men, now so honest and so grateful, shall, in 
return for peace and for protection, see their vile agents 
in the house of parliament, there to sow the seeds of 
sedition, and propagate confusion, perplexity, and pain. 
Be not dispirited, then, at the contemplation of their 
present happy state : I promise you that anarchy, 
poverty, and death shall, by my care, be carried even 
across the spacious Atlantic, and settle in America itself, 
the sure consequences of our beloved whiggism/ " 

This I thought a thing so very particular, that I 
begged his leave to write it down directly, before any 
thing could intervene that might make me forget the 
force of the expressions : a trick, which I have how- 
ever seen played on common occasions, of sitting 
steadily down at the other end of the room to write at 
the moment what should be said in company, either by 
Dr. Johnson or to him, I never practised myself, nor 
approved of in another. ( ! ) There is something so ill- 
bred, and so inclining to treachery in this conduct, that 
were it commonly adopted, all confidence would soon be 
exiled from society, and a conversation assembly-room 
would become tremendous as a court of justice. A set 
of acquaintance joined in familiar chat may say a thou- 
sand things, which, as the phrase is, pass well enough 
at the time, though they cannot stand the test of critical 
examination ; and as all talk beyond that which is 
necessary to the purposes of actual business is a kind 
of game, there will be ever found ways of playing fairly 
or unfairly at it, which distinguish the gentleman from 
the juggler. 

14. Anacreons Dove, 

Dr. Johnson, as well as many of my acquaintance, 

knew that I kept a commonplace book ; and he one 

day said to me good-hum ouredly, that he would give 

me something to write in my repository. "1 warrant," 

(1) [This is evidently an allusion to Boswell.] 



14« JOHNSONIANA. 

said he, " there is a great deal about me in it : you shall 
have at least one thing worth your pains ; so if you 
will get the pen and ink, I will repeat to you Anacreoe's 
Dove directly ; but tell at the same time, that as I 
never was struck with any thing in the Greek language 
till I read that, so I never read any thing in frie same 
language since, that pleased me as much. I hone my 
translation," continued he, Ci is not worse than that of 
Frank Fawkes." Seeing me disposed to laugh. i( Nay, 
nay," said he, " Frank Fawkes has done them very 
finely : — 

Lovely courier of the sky, 

Whence and whither dost thou fly ? 

Scatt'ring, as thy pinions play, 

Liquid fragrance all the way : 

Is it business ? is it love ? 

Tell me, tell me, gentle Dove. 

" Soft Anacreon's vows I bear, 
Vows to Myrtale the fair ; 
Graced with all that charms the ilea? , 
Blushing nature, smiling art, 
Venus, courted by an ode, 
On the bard her Dove bestow'd. 
Vested with a master's right 
Now Anacreon rules my flight • 
His the letters that you see, 
Weighty charge consign'd to me : 
Think not yet my service hard, 
Joyless task without reward : 
Smiling at my master's gates, 
Freedom my return awaits ; 
But the liberal grant in vain 
Tempts me to be wild again : 
Can a prudent Dove decline 
Blissful bondage such as mine? 
Over hills and fields to roam, 
Fortune's guest without a home •. 
Under leaves to hide one's heau« 
Slightly shelter'd, coarsely fed , 



piozzi. 15 

Now my better lot bestows 
Sweet repast, and soft repose ; 
Now the generous bowl I sip 
As it leaves Anacreon's lip ; 
Void of care, and free from dread, 
From his fingers snatch his bread, 
Then with luscious plenty gay, 
Round his chamber dance and play ; 
Or from wine as courage springs, 
O'er his face extend my wings; 
And when feast and frolic tire, 
Drop asleep upon his lyre. 
This is all, be quick and go, 
More than all thou canst not know ; 
Let me now my pinions ply, 
1 have chatter'd like a pie. " 

When I had finished, " But you must remember to 
add," says Mr. Johnson, "that though these verses 
were planned, and even begun, when I was sixteen 
years old, I never could find time to make an end of 
them before I was sixty -eight." 

15. Johnsons Portrait by Himself, 
He told me that the character of Sober, in the Idler, 
was by himself intended as his own portrait ; and that 
he had his own outset into life in his eye, when he 
wrote the eastern story of Gelaleddin. 

16. Giving away Literary Productions. 
Dr. Johnson was liberal enough in granting literary 
assistance to others, I think ; and innumerable are the 
prefaces, sermons, lectures, and dedications which he 
used to make for people who begged of him. Mr. 
Murphy related in his and my hearing one day, and he 
did not deny it, that when Murphy joked him the week 
before for having been so diligent of late between 
Dodd's sermon and Kelly's prologue, that Dr. Johnson 
replied, " Why, Sir, when they come to me with a 



16 JOHNSONIANA. 

dead stay-maker and a dying parson, what can a man 
do ? " He said, however, that "he hated to give away 
literary performances, or even to sell them too cheaply : 
the next generation shall not accuse me," added he, " of 
beating down the price of literature : one hates, besides, 
ever to give that which one has been accustomed to sell: 
would not you, Sir," turning to Mr. Thrale, Ci rather 
give away money than porter ? " 

17. Reading. 
Mr. Johnson had never, by his own account, been a 
close student, and used to advise young people never to 
be without a book in their pocket, to be read at bye- times, 
when they had nothing else to do. st It has been 
by that means/' said he to a boy at our house one day, 
ee that all my knowledge has been gained, except what I 
have picked up by running about the world with my 
wits ready to observe, and my tongue ready to talk. A 
man is seldom in a humour to unlock his bookcase, 
set his desk in order, and betake himself to serious 
study ; but a retentive memory will do something, and 
a fellow shall have strange credit given him, if he can 
but recollect striking passages from different books, keep 
the authors separate in his head, and bring his stock of 
knowledge artfully into play. How else," added he, "do 
the gamesters manage, when they play for more money 
than they are worth ? " 

18. The Dictionary. 
His Dictionary, however, could not, one would think, 
have been written by running up and down : but he 
really did not consider it as a great performance ; and 
used to say, " that he might have done it easily in two 
years, had not his health received several shocks during 
I the time." When Mr. Thrale, in consequence of this 
declaration, teased him, in the year 1 768, to give a new 
edition of it, iC because," said he, " there are four or five 



piozzi. 17 

gross faults : " — "Alas! Sir," replied Johnson, u there 
are four or five hundred faults, instead of four or five ; 
but you do not consider that it would take me up 
three whole months' labour, and when the time 
was expired the work would not be done." When 
the booksellers set him about it, however, some years 
after, he went cheerfully to the business, sairl he was 
well paid, and that thev deserved to have it done care- 
fully. 

19- The French Academy. 
His reply to the person who complimented him on 
his Dictionary coming out first, mentioning the ill 
success of the French in a similar attempt, is well 
known ; and, I trust, has been often recorded : (i Why, 
what would you expect, dear Sir," said he, (C from 
fellows that eat frogs ? " Q) 

20. Greek. 
I have often thought Dr. Johnson more free than 
prudent, in professing so loudly his little skill in the 
Greek language ( 2 ) : for though he considered it as a 
proof of a narrow mind to be too careful of literary re- 
putation, yet no man could be more enraged than he, if 
an enemy, taking advantage of this confession, twitted 
him with his ignorance ; and I remember when the 
king of Denmark was in England, one of his noblemen 
was brought by Mr. Colman to see Dr. Johnson at our 
country-house ; and having heard, he said, that he was 
not famous for Greek literature, attacked him on the 
weak side ; politely adding, that he chose that con- 
versation on purpose to favour himself. Our Doctor, 
however, displayed so copious, so compendious a know- 
ledge of authors, books, and every branch of learning in 
that language, that the gentleman appeared astonished. 

(1) For his pleasantry about the French Academy, see Vol. I. 
p. 215. — C. 

(2) [See ante, Vol. VIII. p. 389.] 
VOL. IX. C 



18 JOHNSONIANA. 

When he was gone home, says Johnson, Cf Now for all 
this triumph, I may thank Thrale's Xenophon here, 
as, I think excepting that one, I have not looked in a 
Greek book these ten years : but see what haste my 
dear friends were all in/' continued he, " to tell this 
poor innocent foreigner that I knew nothing of Greek ! 
Oh, no, he knows nothing of Greek ! " with a loud 
burst of laughing. 

2 1 . Pope — Dry den — Ga rrick — Congreve — and 
Young. 

Of Pope as a writer he had the highest opinion, and 
once when a lady at our house talked of his preface to 
Shakspeare as superior to Pope's, a I fear not, Madam," 
said he ; " the little fellow has done wonders." His 
superior reverence of Dryden, notwithstanding, still ap- 
peared in his talk as in his writings ; and when some 
one mentioned the ridicule thrown on him in the " Re- 
Dearsal," as having hurt his general character as an 
author, " on the contrary," says Mr. Johnson, " the 
greatness of Dryden's reputation is now the only prin- 
ciple of vitality which keeps the duke of Buckingham's 
play from putrefaction." (*) 

It was not very easy, however, for people not quite 
intimate with Dr. Johnson, to get exactly his opinion 
of a writer's merit, as he would now and then divert 
himself by confounding those who thought themselves 
obliged to say to-morrow what he had said yesterday ; 
and even Garrick, who ought to have been better ac- 
quainted with his tricks, professed himself mortified, 
that one time when he was extolling Dryden in a rap- 
ture that I suppose disgusted his friend, Mr. Johnson 
suddenly challenged him to produce twenty lines in a 

(1 ) [If this opinion on the republication of " The Rehearsal " 
be correct, it must — as sometimes happens — have fallen and 
risen again. The truth is, that the greater number of readers 
at present admire the wit of " The Rehearsal," without ever 
thinking of its being a satire on Dryden. — Fonnere^u.J 



piozzi. 19 

scries, that would not disgrace the poet and his admirer. 
Garriek produced a passage that he had once heard the 
Doctor commend, in which he now found, if I remember 
rightly, sixteen faults, and made Garriek look silly at 
his own table. When I told Mr. Johnson the story, 
u Why, what a monkey was David now," says he, u to 
tell of his own disgrace ! " 

In the course of that hour's chat, he told me how he 
used to tease Garriek by commendations of the tomb 
scene in Congreve's Mourning Bride, protesting that 
Shakspeare had, in the same line of excellence, nothing 
as good : " All which is strictly true" said he ; but 
that is no reason for supposing Con gr eve is to stand in 
competition with Shakspeare : these fellows know not 
how to blame, nor how to commend." 

I forced him one day, in a similar humour, to prefer 
Young's description of night to the so much admired 
ones of Dry den and Shakspeare, as more forcible, and 
more general. Every reader is not either a lover or a 
tyrant, but every reader is interested when he hears 
that 

" Creation sleeps ; 't is as the general pulse 
Of life stood still, and nature made a pause ; 
An awful pause — prophetic of its end." 

" This," said he, " is true ; but remember that, taking 
the compositions of Young in general, they are but like 
bright stepping-stones over a miry road. Young froths, 
and foams, and bubbles sometimes very vigorously ; but 
we must not compare the noise made by your tea-kettle 
here with the roaring of the ocean." 

22. Corneille. — Shakspeare. — Steele. 
Somebody was praising Corneille one day in oppo- 
sition to Shakspeare : (( Corneille is to Shakspeare," 
replied Mr. Johnson, i: as a clipped hedge is to a forest." 
When we talked of Steele's Essays, " They are too 
thin," says our critic, <( for an Englishman's taste: 
c 2 



20 JOHNSONIANA. 

mere superficial observations on life and manners, with- 
out erudition enough to make them keep, — like the 
light French wines, which turn sour with standing a 
while for want of body, as we call it." 

23. Style of Swift 
A friend was praising the style of Dr. Swift ; Mr. 
Johnson did not find himself in the humour to agree 
with him : the critic was driven from one of his per- 
formances to the other. At length, " you must allow 
me," said the gentleman, ee that there are strong facts 
in the account of the ' Four last Years of Queen Anne.' " 
" Yes, surely, Sir/' replies Johnson, " and so there are 
in the Ordinary of Newgate's account." 

24. " New Manner of Writing." 
This was like the story which Mr. Murphy tells, and 
Johnson always acknowledged : how Dr. Rose of Chis- 
wick, contending for the preference of Scotch writers 
over the English, after having set up his authors like 
nine-pins, while the Doctor kept bowling them down 
again ; at last, to make sure of victory, he named Fer- 
guson upon " Civil Society," and praised the book for 
being written in a new manner. " I do not/' says 
Johnson, " perceive the value of this new manner ; it 
is only like Buckinger, who had no hands, and so wrote 
with his feet." 

25. Robertson. — Canting. 
When he related to me a short dialogue that passed 
between himself and a writer of the first eminence in 
the world, when he was in Scotland, I was shocked to 
think how he must have disgusted him. Dr. Robertson 
asked me, said he, why I did not join in their public 
worship when among them ? " for," said he, " I went 
to your churches often when in England. " So," re- 
plied Johnson, <e I have read that the Siamese sent am- 
bassadors to Louis Quatorze, but I never heard that the 



piozzi. 21 

king of France thought it worth his while to send am- 
bassadors from his court to that of Siam." 

He was no gentler with myself, or those for whom I 
had the greatest regard. When I one day lamented 
the loss of a first cousin killed in America ; " Prithee, 
my dear/' said he, " have done with canting : how 
would the world be worse for it, I may ask, if all your 
relations were at once spitted like larks, and roasted for 
Presto's supper ? " Presto was the dog that lay under 
the table while we talked. 

26. Young Peas. 
When we went into Wales together, and spent some 
time at Sir Robert Cotton's at Lleweny, one day at din- 
ner I meant to please Mr. Johnson particularly with a 
dish of very young peas. " Are not they charming ? " 
said I to him, while he was eating them. — " Perhaps," 
said he, iC they would be so — to a pig." 

27. Wartons Poems. 
When a well known author published his poems in 
the year 1777: such a one's verses are come out, said 
I. " Yes," replied Johnson, " and this frost has struck 
them in again. Here are some lines I have written to 
ridicule them : but remember that I love the fellow 
dearly, now — for all I laugh at him: 

" Wheresoe'er I turn my view, 
All is strange, yet nothing new : 
Endless labour all along, 
Endless labour to be wrong ; 
Phrase that Time has flung away ; 
Uncouth words in disarray, 
Trick'd in antique ruff and bonnet, 
Ode, and elegy, and sonnet." (l) 

( 1 ) The metre of these lines was no doubt suggested by War- 
ton's ; " Crusade" and " The Grave of King Arthur," (Works, 
vol. ii. pp. 38. 51. ) ; but they are, otherwise, rather a criticism 
than a parody C. 

c 3 



22 JOHNSONIANA. 

28. Potter s Euripides. 
When he parodied the verses of another eminent 
writer ( ] ), it was done with more provocation, I helieve, 
and with some merry malice. A serious translation of 
the same lines, which I think are from Euripides, may 
be found in iC Burney's History of Music/' Here are 
the burlesque ones : — 

u Err shall they not, who resolute explore 

Times gloomy backward with judicious eyes ; 
A«nd scanning right the practices of yore, 
Shall deem our hoar progenitors unwise. 

" They to the dome where smoke with curling play 
Announced the dinner to the regions round, 
Summon'd the singer blithe, and harper gay, 
And aided wine with dulcet-streaming sound. 

*' The better use of notes, or sweet or shrill, 
By quiv'ring string, or modulated wind ; 
Trumpet or lyre — to their harsh bosoms chill, 
Admission ne'er had sought, or could not find 

u Oh ! send them to the sullen mansion's dun, 
Her baleful eyes where Sorrow rolls around ; 
Where gloom-enamoured Mischief loves to dwell, 
And Murder all blood-bolter'd, schemes the wound, 

•« When cates luxuriant pile the spacious dish 
And purple nectar glads the festive hour ; 
The guest, without a want, without a wish, 

Can yield no room to Music's soothing pow'r." 

29. Legendary Stories — Bishop Percy. 
Some of the old legendary stories put in verse by 

(1) Malone's MS. notes, communicated by Mr. Markland, 
state that this was " Robert Potter, the translator of iEschylus 
and Euripides, who wrote a pamphlet against Johnson, in con- 
sequence of his criticism on Gray." It may, therefore, be 
presumed that these verses were made subsequently to that pub- 
lication, in 1783. Potter died, a prebendary of Norwich, in 
1804, art. eighty- three. — C. 



piozzi. 45 

modern writers ( ] ), provoked him to caricature them 
thus one day at Streatham ; but they are already well 
known, I am sure. 

" The tender infant, meek and mild, 
Fell down upon the stone; 
The nurse took up the squealing child, 
But still the child squeal'd on." 

A famous ballad also, beginning, " Rio verde, Rio 
verde/' when I commended the translation of it ( 2 ), he 
said he could do it better himself — as thus : 

" Grlassy water, glassy water, 

Down whose current, clear and strong, 
Chiefs confused in mutual slaughter, 
Moor and Christian, roll along." 

But, Sir, said I, this is not ridiculous at all. " Why, 
no," replied he, " why should I always write ridicu- 
lously ? perhaps, because I made these verses to imitate 
such a one, naming him : — 

a Hermit hoar, in solemn cell, 

Wearing out life's evening gray ; 
Strike thy bosom, sage ! and tell, 
What is bliss, and which the way? 

•■ Thus I spoke, anjl speaking sigh'd, — 
Scarce repress'd the starting tear, — 
When the hoary Sage replied, 

Come, my lad, and drink some beer." (3) 



(1) This alludes to Bishop Percy and his " Hermit of W ark- 
worth." — C. 

(2) No doubt the translation by Bishop Percy: — 

" Gentle river, gentle river, 

Lo, thy streams are stain'd with gore ; 
Many a brave and noble captain 
Floats along thy willow'd shore." 

Neither of these pretended translations give any idea of the pe- 
culiar simplicity of the original C. 

'Sj [See ante. Vol. VI. p. 299.1 

c 4 



24 JOHNSONIANA. 

30. Caricatura Imitation. — Fat Oxen, fyc. 
I could give another comical instance of caricatura 
imitation. Recollecting some day, when praising these 
verses of Lopez de Vega, 

' Se aquien los leones vence 
Vence una muger hermosa 
O el de flaco averguence 
O ella di ser mas furiosa," 

more than he thought they deserved, Mr. Johnson in- 
stantly observed, " that they were founded on a trivial 
conceit; and that conceit ill-explained, and ill-expressed 
beside. The lady, we all know, does not conquer in the 
same manner as the lion does: 'tis a mere play of 
words/' added he, " and you might as well say, that 

If the man who turnips cries, 
Cry not when his father dies, 
'Tis a proof that he had rather 
Have a turnip than his father." ^ 

And this humour is of the same sort with which he 
answered the friend who commended the following line : 

Who rules o'er freemen should himself be free. 
" To be sure," said Dr. Johnson, 

" Who drives fat oxen should himself be fat." 

This readiness of finding a parallel, or making one, 
was shown by him perpetually in the course of con- 
versation. When the French verses of a certain pan- 
tomime were quoted thus, 

" Je suis Cassandre descendue des cieux, 

Pour vous faire entendre, mesdames et messieurs. 
Que je suis Cassandre descendue des cieux ;" 

he cried out gaily and suddenly, almost in a moment, 

" I am Cassandra come down from the sky, 
To tell each by-stander what none can deny, 
That I am Cassandra come down from the sky." 



ptozzi. 25 

The pretty Italian verses, too, at the end of Baretti's 
book, called (i Easy Phraseology/' he did alV improvviso 
in the same manner : — 

" Viva ! viva la padrona S 
Tutta bella, e tutta buona, 
La padrona e un angiolella 
Tutta buona e tutta bella ; 
Tutta bella e tutta buona : 
Viva ! viva la padrona ! " 

" Long may live my lovely Hetty ! 
Always young and always pretty, 
Always pretty, always young, 
Live my lovely Hetty long ! 
Always young and always pretty ; 
Long may live my lovely Hetty ! " 

The famous distich, too, of an Italian improvvisatore, 
who, when the Duke of Modena ran away from the 
comet in the year 1742 or 1743, 

" Se al venir vestro i principi sen' vanno, 
Deh venga ogni di durate un anno ; 

i( which," said he, " would do just as well in our lan- 
guage thus : — 

If at your coming princes disappear, 
Comets ! come every day — and stay a year." 

When some one in company commended the verses 
of M. de Benserade a son Lit ; 

" Theatre des ris et des pleurs, 
Lit ! ou je nais, et ou je meurs, 
Tu nous fais voir comment voisins 
Sont nos plaisirs, et nos chagrins," 

he replied without hesitating, 

(i In bed we laugh, in bed we cry, 
And born in bed, in bed we die ; 
The near approach a bed may show 
Of human bliss to human woe." 



96 JOHNSONIANA. 



31. Lord Anson. — Wits. 

s The epigram written at Lord Anson's house many 
years ago, ce where/' says Mr. Johnson, " I was well 
received and kindly treated, and with the true gratitude 
of a wit ridiculed the master of the house before I had 
left it an hour," has been falsely printed in many papers 
since his death. I wrote it down from his own lips 
one evening in August, 1772, not neglecting the little 
preface, accusing himself of making so graceless a re- 
turn for the civilities shown him. He had, among 
other elegancies about the park and gardens, been made 
to observe a temple to the winds, when this thought 
naturally presented itself to a wit. 

" Gratum animum laudo ; Qui debuit omnia ventis, 
Quam bene ventorum, surgere templa jubet ! " 

32. Dr. Lawrence. 

Poor Dr. Lawrence had long been his friend and 
confident. The conversation I saw them hold together 
in Essex Street one day in the year 1781 or 1782 was 
a melancholy one, and made a singular impression on 
my mind. He was himself exceedingly ill, and I ac- 
companied him thither for advice. The physician was, 
however, in some respects, more to be pitied than the 
patient Johnson was panting under an asthma and 
dropsy; but Lawrence had been brought home that 
very morning struck with the palsy, from which he 
had, two hours before we came, strove to awaken him- 
self by blisters : they were both deaf, and scarce able to 
speak besides ; one from difficulty of breathing, the 
other from paralytic debility. To give and receive 
medical counsel, therefore, they fairly sat down on each 
side a table in the doctor's gloomy apartment, adorned 
with skeletons, preserved monsters, &c. and agreed to 



piozzi. 27 

write Latin billets to each other. Such a scene did 1 
never see ! " You/' said Johnson, u are timide and 
g •elide ;" finding that his friend had prescribed pallia- 
tive, not drastic remedies. " It is not me/' replies poor 
Lawrence in an interrupted voice ; Ci 'tis nature that is 
gelide and timide.' 3 In fact, he lived but few months 
after, I believe, and retained his faculties a still shorter 
time. He was a man of strict piety and profound 
learning, but little skilled in the knowledge of life or 
manners, and died without having ever enjoyed the re- 
putation he so justly deserved. 

33. Arithmetic. — National Debt. 

When Mr. Johnson felt his fancy, or fancied he felt 
it, disordered, his constant recurrence was to the study 
of arithmetic ; and one day that he was totally confined 
to his chamber, and I enquired what he had been doing 
to .divert hiinself, he showed me a calculation which I 
could scarce be made to understand, so vast was the 
plan of it, and so very intricate were the figures : no 
other indeed than that the national debt, computing it 
at one hundred and eighty millions sterling, would, if 
converted into silver, serve to make a meridian of that 
metal, I forget how broad, for the globe of the whole 
earth, the real globe. 

34. Number and Numeration. 
On a similar occasion, I asked him (knowing what 
subject he would like best to talk upon), how his opi- 
nion stood towards the question between Pascal and 
Soame Jenyns about number and numeration ? as the 
French philosopher observes that infinity, though on all 
sides astonishing, appears most so when the idea is 
connected with the idea of number ; for the notions of 
infinite number, and infinite number we know there is, 



28 JOHNSONIANA. 

stretches one's capacity still more than the idea of in- 
finite space : " Such a notion, indeed/' adds he, €c can 
scarcely find room in the human mind." Our English 
author, on the other hand, exclaims, Let no man give 
himself leave to talk about infinite number, for infinite 
number is a contradiction in terms ; whatever is once 
numbered, we all see cannot be infinite. " I think," 
said Mr. Johnson, after a pause, u we must settle the 
matter thus : numeration is certainly infinite, for eter- 
nity might be employed in adding unit to unit ; but 
every number is in itself finite, as the possibility of 
doubling it easily proves : besides, stop at what point 
you will, you find yourself as far from infinitude as 
ever." 

35. Historical Fact — General Polity. 
As ethics or figures, or metaphysical reasoning, was 
the sort of talk he most delighted in, so no kind of con- 
versation pleased him less, I think, than when the sub- 
ject was historical fact or general polity. " What 
shall we learn from that stuff?" said he : " let us not 
fancy, like Swift, that we are exalting a woman's cha- 
racter by telling how she 

Could name the ancient heroes round, 
Explain for what they were renown'd," &c. 

I must not, however, lead my readers to suppose that 
he meant to reserve such talk for mens company as a 
proof of pre-eminence. " He never," as he expressed 
it, e< desired to hear of the Punic war while he lived : 
such conversation was lost time," he said, u and carried 
one away from common life, leaving no ideas behind 
which could serve living wight as warning or direction. 

How I should act is not the case, 
But how would Brutus in my place ? 

And now/' cries Mr. Johnson, laughing with obstre- 
perous violence, "if these two foolish lines can be 



piozzi. 29 

equalled in folly, except by the two succeeding ones, 
show them me." ( ] ) 

36. Catiline and Tom Thumb. 
I asked him once concerning the conversation powers 
of a gentleman ( 2 ) with whom I was myself unac- 
quainted : — "He talked to me at club one day," replies 
our Doctor, " concerning Catiline's conspiracy — so I 
withdrew my attention, and thought about Tom 
Thumb." 

(1) These are two lines of Swift's Verses to Stella, 1720. Dr. 
Johnson's censure was too violent, and indeed he seems not to 
have correctly understood the dean's illustration. He is laying 
down certain general rules for distinguishing what honour is, 
and he exposes the many false meanings which the world assigns 
to that word. He proceeds to say that men should not decide 
what is honourable by a reference to their own feelings and cir- 
cumstances, which naturally bias the judgment, but should con- 
sider, without reference to self, how a wise and good man 
would act. 

" In points of honour to be tried, 
All passion must be laid aside j 
Ask no advice, but think alone; 
Suppose the question not your own : 
' How shall I act ? ' is not the case ; 
But how would Brutus in my place ? 
In .such a case would Cato bleed ? 
And how would Socrates proceed ? 

It is plain here, and still plainer from the whole context of the 
poem, that Brutus, Cato, and Socrates are here put as the repre- 
sentatives of Patriotism and Virtue, and as the names of Zoilus, 
Bavius, or Pandarus are used generically to signify infamou* 
persons: so here, Brutus, Cato, and Socrates (which might as 
well have been Sidney, Somers, or Clarendon, or any other illus- 
trious names, ) are used as terms of honour to give point and a 
kind of dramatic effect to the general proposition. Swift never 
dreamt (as Mrs. Piozzi's report would lead us to think that 
Johnson supposed) to advise that our rules of conduct were to 
be drawn from the actual events of Greek and Roman history. 
This would have been as absurd as Johnson's own introduction 
of Roman manners into London in his description of the burn- 
ing of Orgilio's palace, or the invocation of Democritus, which 
sounds so strangely amidst the modern illustrations of his own 
beautiful and splendid Vanity of Human Wishes C, 

(2) [Mr. Agmondesham Vesey. See ante, Vol. VII. p. 375.] 



30 JOHWSO.NI ANA. 

S7» Modern Politics. 

Modern politics fared no better. I was one time 
extolling the character of a statesman, and expatiating 
on the skill required to direct the different currents, re- 
concile the jarring interests, &c. : — " Thus/' replies he, 
" a mill is a complicated piece of mechanism enough, 
but the water is no part of the workmanship." 

On another occasion, when some one lamented the 
weakness of a then present minister, and complained 
that he was dull and tardy, and knew little of affairs, — 
" You may as well complain, Sir," savs Johnson, 
<e that the accounts of time are kept by the clock ; for 
he certainly does stand still upon the stair-head — and 
we all know that he is no great chronologer." 

38. French Invasion. 

In the year 1777? or thereabouts, when all the talk 
was of an invasion, he said most pathetically one after- 
noon, " Alas ! alas ! how this unmeaning stuff spoils all 
my comfort in my friends' conversation ! Will the 
people never have done with it ; and shall I never hear 
a sentence again without the French in it ? Here is no 
invasion coming, and you know there is none. Let the 
vexatious and frivolous talk alone, or suffer it at least 
to teach you one truth ; and learn by this perpetual 
echo of even unapprehended distress, how historians 
magnify events expected, or calamities endured ; when 
you know they are at this very moment collecting all 
the big words they can find, in which to describe a 
consternation never felt, for a misfortune which never 
happened. Among all your lamentations, who eats the 
less ? Who sleeps the worse, for one general's ill suc- 
cess, or another's capitulation ? Oh, pray let us hear no 
more of it ! " 

3$. A good Hater. — Whigs and Americans. 
No man was more zealously attached to his party ; 



piozzi. 31 

he not only loved a Tory himself, but he loved a man 
the better if he heard he hated a Whig. "Dear 
Bathurst/' said he to me one day, ' ' was a man to my 
very heart's content : he hated a fool, and he hated a 
rogue, and he hated a Whig ; he was a very good hater," 
Some one mentioned a gentleman of that party for 
having behaved oddly on an occasion where faction was 
not concerned : — "Is he not a citizen of London, a na- 
tive of North America, and a Whig ? " says Johnson. 
" Let him be absurd, I beg of you : when a monkey is 
too like a man, it shocks one." 

40. Treatment of the Poor. 

Severity towards the poor was, in Dr. Johnson's 
opinion, an undoubted and constant attendant or con- 
sequence upon Whiggism ; and he was not contented 
with giving them relief, he wished to add also in- 
dulgence. He loved the poor as I never yet saw any 
one else do, with an earnest desire to make them happy. 
What signifies, says some one, giving halfpence to 
common beggars ? they only lay it out in gin or 
tobacco. " And why should they be denied such sweet- 
eners of their existence?" says Johnson; ec It is surely 
very savage to refuse them every possible avenue to 
pleasure, reckoned too coarse for our own acceptance. 
Life is a pill which none of us can bear to swallow 
without gilding ; yet for the poor we delight in strip- 
ping it still barer, and are not ashamed to show even 
visible displeasure, if ever the bitter taste is taken from 
their mouths ." 

41. Johnson s Pensioners. 

In consequence of these principles he nursed 
whole nests of people in his house, where the 
lame, the blind, the sick, and the sorrowful found a 
sure retreat from all the evils whence his little in- 
come could secure them : and, commonly spending the 



32 JOHNSONIANA. 

middle of the week at our house, he kept his numerous 
family in Fleet Street upon a settled allowance ; hut re- 
turned to them every Saturday, to give them three good 
dinners, and his company, before he came back to us on 
the Monday night — treating them with the same, or 
perhaps more ceremonious civility, than he would have 
done by as many people of fashion — making the Holy 
Scriptures thus the rule of his conduct, and only ex- 
pecting salvation as he was able to obey its precepts. 

42. Sentimental Miseries. — Distresses of Friends. 
While Dr. Johnson possessed, however, the strongest 
compassion for poverty or illness, he did not even pre- 
tend to feel for those who lamented the loss of a child, 
a parent, or a friend. " These are the distresses of 
sentiment," he would reply, " which a man who is 
really to be pitied has no leisure to feel. The sight of 
people who want food and raiment is so common in 
great cities, that a surly fellow like me has no compas- 
sion to spare for wounds given only to vanity or soft- 
ness." No man, therefore, who smarted from the 
ingratitude of his friends found any sympathy from 
our philosopher. (e Let him do good on higher motives 
next time," would be the answer; "he will then be 
sure of his reward." It is easy to observe, that the 
justice of such sentences made them offensive ; but we 
must be careful how we condemn a man for saying 
what we know to be true, only because it is so. 

Few things which pass well enough with others 
would do with him : he had been a great reader of 
Mandeville, and was ever on the watch to spy out those 
stains of original corruption, so easily discovered by a 
penetrating observer, even in the purest minds. I men- 
tioned an event, which if it had happened would greatly 
have injured Mr. Thrale and his family — and then, 
dear Sir, said I, how sorry you would have been ! " I 
hope/' replied he, after a long pause, " I should have 



piozzi. 33 

been very sorry ; — but remember Rochefoucault s 
maxim." (*) I would rather, answered I, remember 
Prior's verses,, and ask, 

" What need of books these truths to tell, 
Which folks perceive that cannot spell ? 
And must we spectacles apply, 
To see what hurts our naked eye ? " — 

Will any body's mind bear this eternal microscope 
that you place upon your own so ? " I never/' replied 
he^ " saw one that would, except that of my dear Miss 
Reynolds — and hers is very near to purity itself." 

Of slighter evils, and friends less distant than our 
own household^ he spoke less cautiously. An acquaint- 
ance lost the almost certain hope of a good estate that 
had been long expected. Such a one will grieve, said 
I, at her friend's disappointment. ' c She will suffer as 
much, perhaps/' said he, <e as your horse did when your 
cow miscarried/' 

I professed myself sincerely grieved when accu- 
mulated distresses crushed Sir George Colebrook's 
family; and I was so. " Your own prosperity/' said 
he, u may possibly have so far increased the natural 
tenderness of your heart, that for aught I know you 
maybe a little sorry; but it is sufficient for a plain man 
if he does not laugh when he sees a fine new house 
tumble down all on a sudden, and a snug cottage stand 
by ready to receive the owner, whose birth entitled him 
to nothing better, and whose limbs are left him to go to 
work again with." 

43. Hyperbole. 
I used to tell him in jest, that his morality was easily 
contented ; and when I have said something as if ths 

(1) F u In the misfortunes of our best friends we always fir.d 
something to please us."] 

VOL. IX. D 



34 JOHNSONIANA. 

wickedness of the world gave me concern, he would cry 
out aloud against canting, and protest that he thought 
there was very little gross wickedness in the world, and 
still less of extraordinary virtue. Nothing indeed more 
surely disgusted Dr. Johnson than hyperbole : he loved 
not to he told of sallies of excellence, which he said 
were seldom valuable, and seldom true. " Heroic vir- 
tues/' said he, Ci are the bons mots of life ; they do not 
appear often, and when they do appear are too much 
prized, I think ; like the aloe-tree, which shoots and 
flowers once in a hundred years." 

44. Life made up of little Things. 
Life is made up of little things; and that character 
is the best which does little but repeated acts of bene- 
ficence ; as that conversation is the best which consists 
in elegant and pleasing thoughts, expressed in natural 
and pleasing terms. i( With regard to my own notions 
of moral virtue," continued he, " I hope I have not lost 
my sensibility of wrong ; but" I hope likewise that I 
have lived long enough in the world, to prevent me 
from expecting to find any action of which both the 
original motive and all the parts were good." 

45. Johnsons Piety and Spirit of Devotion. 
The piety of Dr. Johnson was exemplary and edify- 
ing. He was punctiliously exact to perform every public 
duty enjoined by the church, and his spirit of devotion 
had an energy that affected all who ever saw him pray 
in private. The coldest and most languid hearers of 
the word must have felt themselves animated by his 
manner of reading the Holy Scriptures ; and to pray 
by his sick bed required strength of body as well as of 
mind, so vehement were his manners. I have many 
times made it my request to Heaven that I might b? 
spared the sight of his death ; and I was spared it ! 



piozzi. 35 

4:6. Voluntary Penance. 
Mr. Johnson, though in general a gross feeder, kept 
fast in Lent, particularly the holy week, with a rigour 
very dangerous to his general health ; but though he 
had left off wine, (for religious motives as I always be- 
lieved, though he did not own it,) yet he did not hold 
the commutation of offences by voluntary penance, or 
encourage others to practise severity upon themselves. 
He even once said, ei that he thought it an error to en- 
deavour at pleasing God by taking the rod of reproof 
out of his hands." 

47- Convents. — The Benedictines. 
When we talked of convents, and the hardships suf- 
fered in them — "Remember always," said he, ' f that 
a convent is an idle place, and where there is nothing 
to be done something must be endured : mustard has a 
bad taste per se, you may observe, but very insipid food 
cannot be eaten without it." His respect, however, for 
places of religious retirement was carried to the greatest 
degree of veneration. The Benedictine convent at Paris ( ; ) 
paid him all possible honours in return, and the Prior (-) 
and he parted with tears of tenderness. Two of that 

(1) We learn from the Abbe Mann's Account of the Bene- 
dictine Monks in Paris, that this priory was first founded at 
St. Malo, in 1611, by Giffard, Archbishop of Rheims. Ihe 
French king not permitting this house to continue at St. Malo, 
on account of its proximity to England, Archbishop Giffard 
procured another at Paris, which, in 1642, was changed for one 
in the Rue St. Jacques, where the monks remained till 1793, 
when they were involved in the common destruction of the 
French Revolution. During their existence in Paris, these 
monks enjoyed all the privileges of the university, with regard 
to studies, degrees, and benefices annexed to the degrees; and it 
was by means of these last, that the house enjoyed considerable 
revenues. — Markland. 

(2) This individual was the Rev. Mr. Cowley. He was at this 
time about 40 years of age, and he is described to me by a still 
surviving contemporary (the Rev. A. Ryding, now residing at 
Ampleforth, near York), as a man of good sense, taste, and 

judgment — Markland. 

*\ 2 



36 JOHNSONIANA. 

college ( l ) being sent to England on the mission some 
years after, spent much of their time with him at Bolt 
Court I know, and he was ever earnest to retain their 
friendship ; but, though beloved by all his Roman Ca- 
tholic acquaintance, particularly Dr. Nugent, for whose 
esteem he had a singular value, yet was Mr. Johnson a 
most unshaken church -of-England man. 

(1) The Rev. James Compton (see ante, Vol. VIII. p. 201.; 
and the Rev. Joseph Wilks. Mr. Wilks was born at Coughton 
Court, Warwickshire, and educated at St. Edmund's, a Bene- 
dictine monastery in Paris. He was sometime chaplain to Mr. 
Basil Fitzherbert, of Swinnerton in Staffordshire, and afterwards 
the chief priest of Bath. In 1788 he was added to the English 
Catholic committee, appointed to " watch over and promote 
their public interests," then consisting of thirteen persons ; but 
having incurred the displeasure of his Bishop, Dr. Walmsley, 
(most probably with reference to the proceedings of this com- 
mittee — see Butler's Historical Memoirs of the Catholics, vol. iv. ) 
he quitted England, and, after visiting various parts of the con- 
tinent, died at Douay in 1829, about the age of 82. Whilst in 
England, he was well received at Oxford; and it is said that he 
gave some assistance to Dr. Kennicot, when preparing his 
Hebrew Bible, in which language Wilks was a proficient. Mr. 
Ryding, who knew him intimately, describes Wilks as a humble 
and devout man, possessing very superior talents. At Johnson's 
suggestion, he wrote the Life of Socrates, which the former 
promised to revise, particularly with a view to expunge any 
Gallicisms which might have crept into the work. It is believed 
that it was finished, but never published. Johnson selected 
Wilks as his companion, when visiting the public libraries, &c. 
in Paris. At the King's library Johnson's singular appearance, 
and his full-mouthed pronunciation of Latin, exposed him to some 
ridicule from a French Abbe. According to Mr. Ryding, John- 
son declared to the Prior, that, so much was he pleased with his 
reception by the Benedictines, that, could he procure an in- 
crease to his pension, he would return to France, with the inten- 
tion of ending his days as an inmate of the monastery. To 
every one conversant with the opinions which Johnson openly 
expressed as to certain important tenets of Popery, as well as 
with his arguments against monastic and solitary life, net only will 
many weighty objections occur, as to the probability of such 
intention having been seriously entertained, but it must also be 
evident, that to a man retiring from the world an increase of 
pension would be useless, and that a life of literary ease would 
have proved a slender compensation to Johnson for the loss of 
Bolt Court and the Literary Club. — Markland. 



piozzi. 37 

48. Infidels. — Hume. — Raynal. 

The settled aversion Dr. Johnson felt towards an 
infidel he expressed to all ranks, and at all times, with- 
out the smallest reserve ; for though on common oc- 
casions he paid great deference to birth or title, yet his 
regard for truth and virtue never gave way to meaner 
considerations. We talked of a dead wit one evening, 
and somebody praised him — iC Let us never praise 
talents so ill employed, Sir ; we foul our mouths by 
commending such infidels/' said he. Allow him the 
lumieres at least, entreated one of the company — " I 
do allow him, Sir," replied Johnson, iC just enough 
to Ughtjuia- to-hell." 

Of a Jamaica gentleman, then lately dead — " He 
will not, whither he is now gone," said Johnson, " find 
much difference, I believe, either in the climate or the | 
company." 

The Abbe Raynal probably remembers that, being at 
the house of a common friend in London, the master of 
it approached Johnson with that gentleman so much 
celebrated in his hand, and this speech in his mouth : 
" Will you permit me, Sir, to present to you the Abbe 
Raynal ? " " iVo, Sir/' replied the Doctor, very loud ; 
and suddenly turned away from them both. 

49. Dancing Master. — Palymra. 

He would sometimes good-naturedly enter into a long 
chat for the instruction or entertainment of people he 
despised. I perfectly recollect his condescending to 
delight my daughter's dancing-master with a long argu- 
ment about his art; which the man protested, at the 
close of the discourse, the Doctor knew more of than 
himself; who remained astonished, enlightened, and 
amused by the talk of a person little likely to make 
2 good disquisition upon dancing. 

I have sometimes indeed been rather pleased than 
vexed when Mr. Johnson has given a rough answer to a 
d 3 



3b JOHNSONIANA. 

man who perhaps deserved one only half as rough, be- 
cause I knew he would repent of his hasty reproof, and 
make us all amends by some conversation at once in- 
structive and entertaining, as in the following cases : 
A young fellow asked him abruptly one day, * f Pray, 
Sir, what and where is Palmyra ? I heard somebody 
talk last night of the ruins of Palmyra." " 'T is a hill 
in Ireland," replies Johnson, " with palms growing on 
the top, and a bog at the bottom, and so they call it 
Palm-mira." Seeing, however, that the lad thought 
him serious, and thanked him for the information, he 
undeceived him very gently indeed ; told him the 
history, geography, and chronology of Tadmor in the 
wilderness, with every incident that literature could 
furnish, I think, or eloquence express, from the building 
of Solomon's palace to the voyage of Dawkins and 
Wood. 

50. Marriage. 
When he was musing over the fire in our drawing-room 
at Streatham, a young gentleman called to him suddenly, 
and I suppose he thought disrespectfully, in these words: 
c; Mr. Johnson, would you advise me to marry ? " " I 
would advise no man to marry, Sir," returns for answer 
in a very angry tone Dr. Johnson, ce who is not likely 
to propagate understanding;" and so left the room. 
Our companion looked confounded, and I believe had 
scarce recovered the consciousness of his own existence, 
when Johnson came back, and drawing his chair among 
us, with altered looks and a softened voice, joined in 
the general chat, insensibly led the conversation to the 
subject of marriage, where he laid himself ^ut in a dis- 
sertation so useful, so elegant, so founded on the true 
knowledge of human life, and so adorned with beauty 
of sentiment, that no one ever recollected the offence, 
except to rejoice in its consequences. He repented just 
as certainly, however, if he had been led to praise any 



piozzi. 39 

person or thing by accident more than he thought 
it deserved, and was on such occasions comically 
earnest to destroy the praise or pleasure he had un- 
intentionally given. 

. 51. Paintings. — Reynolds. 

Sir Joshua Reynolds mentioned some picture as ex- 
cellent. " It has often grieved me. Sir/' said Mr. John- 
son, u to see so much mind as the science of painting 
requires, laid out upon such perishable materials : why 
do not you oftener make use of copper ? I could wish 
your superiority in the art you profess, to be preserved 
in stuff more durable than canvass." Sir Joshua urged 
the difficulty of procuring a plate large enough for 
historical subjects, and was going to raise further ob- 
jections : — " What foppish obstacles are these !" ex- 
claims, on a sudden, Dr. Johnson: "here is Thrale, who 
has a thousand tun of copper ; you may paint it all 
round if you will, I suppose ; it will serve him to brew 
in afterwards : will it not, Sir ? " to my husband, who 
sat by. 

Indeed, Dr. Johnson's utter scorn of painting was 
such, that I have heard him say, that he should sit 
very quietly in a room hung round with the works 
of the greatest masters, and never feel the slightest dis- 
position to turn them if their backs were outermost, 
unless it might be for the sake of telling Sir Joshua 
that he had turned them. Such speeches may appear 
offensive to many, but those who knew he was too 
blind to discern the perfections of an art which applies 
itself immediately to our eyesight, must acknowledge 
he was not in tne wrong. 

52. Prospects. 

He delighted no more in music than painting ; he 

was almost as deaf as he was blind : travelling with 

Dr. Johnson was for these reasons tiresome enough. 

d 4 



40 JOHNooiniANa. 

Mr. Thrale loved prospects, and was mortified that his 
friend could not enjoy the sight of those different dis- 
positions of wood and water, hill and valley, thai 
travelling through England and France affords a man 
But when he wished to point them out to his com 
panion : — <( Never heed such nonsense/' would be the 
reply : (C a, blade of grass is always a blade of grass, 
whether in one country or another: let us, if we do 
talk, talk about something; men and women are my 
subjects of enquiry ; let us see how these differ from 
those we have left behind." . . 

53. Porridge Island. 
I was saying to a friend one day, that I did not like 
goose ; one smells it so while it is roasting, said I : — 
" But you, Madam," replies the Doctor, " have been at 
all times a fortunate woman, having always had your 
hunger so forestalled by indulgence, that you never ex- 
perienced the delight of smelling your dinner before- 
hand." Which pleasure, answered I pertly, is to be 
enjoyed in perfection by such as have the happiness to 
pass through Porridge Island ( ] ) of a morning. " Come, 
come/' says he gravely, "let's have no sneering at what 
is serious to so many: hundreds of your fellow-creatures, 
dear lady, turn another way, that they may not be 
tempted by the luxuries of Porridge Island to wish for 
gratifications they are not able to obtain : you are cer- 
tainly not better than all of them ; give God thanks that 
you are happier." 

54. Foppish Lamentations. 
I received on another occasion as just a rebuke from 

(1) Porridge Island is a mean street in London, filled with 
cook-shops for the convenience of the poorer inhabitants ; the 
real name of it I know not, but suspect that which it is generally 
known by to have been originally a term of derision. — P. It 
is not a street, but a paved alley near the church of St. Martin's 
in the Fields. — M. 



piozzi. 41 

Mr. Johnson, for an offence of the same nature, and 
hope I took care never to provoke a third ; for, after 
a very long summer particularly hot and dry, I was 
wishing naturally, but thoughtlessly, for some rain to 
lay the dust, as we drove along the Surrey roads, iC I 
cannot bear," replied he, with much asperity and an 
altered look, iC when I know how many poor families 
will perish next winter for want of that bread which 
the present drought will deny them, to hear ladies 
sighing for rain, only that their complexions may not 
suffer from the heat, or their clothes be incommoded by 
the dust ; — for shame ! leave off such foppish lament- 
ations, and study to relieve those whose distresses are 
real." 

55. Johnson s Charity. 
With advising others to be charitable, however. Dr. 
Johnson did not content himself. He gave away all he 
had, and all he ever had gotten, except the two thousand 
pounds he left behind ; and the very small portion 
of his income which he spent on himself, with all our 
calculation, we never could make more than seventy, or, 
at most, fourscore pounds a year, and he pretended to 
allow himself a hundred. He had numberless depend- 
ents out of doors as well as in, " who," as he expressed 
it, cr did not like to see him latterly unless he brought 
'em money." For those people he used frequently 
to raise contributions on his richer friends ; u and this," 
says he, iC is one of the thousand reasons which ought 
to restrain a man from drony solitude and useless re- 
tirement." 

06. Solitude. 
44 Solitude," added he one day, 



reason, without being favourable to virtue : pleasures of 
some sort are necessary to the intellectual as to the 
corporeal health ; and those who resist gaiety, will be 



42 JOHNSONIANA. 

likely, for the most part, to fall a sacrifice to appetite ; 
for the solicitations of sense are always at hand, and 
a dram to a vacant and solitary person is a speedy and 
seducing relief. 

" Remember," continued he, iC that the solitary 
mortal is certainly luxurious, probably superstitious, 
and possibly mad : the mind stagnates for want of em- 
ployment, grows morbid, and is extinguished like a 
candle in foul air." 

It was on this principle that Johnson encouraged 
parents to carry their daughters early and much into 
company: " for what harm can be done before so many 
witnesses ? Solitude is the surest nurse of all prurient 
passions ; and a girl in the hurry of preparation, or 
tumult of gaiety, has neither inclination nor leisure to 
let tender expressions soften or sink into her heart. 
The ball, the show, are not the dangerous places : no, 
'tis the private friend, the kind consoler, the companion 
of the easy vacant hour, whose compliance with her 
opinions can flatter her vanity, and whose conversation 
can just soothe, without ever stretching her mind, that is 
the lover to be feared : he who buzzes in her ear at 
court, or at the opera, must be contented to buzz in 
vain." 

These notions Dr. Johnson carried so very far, that 
I have heard him say, " If you would shut up any man 
with any woman, so as to make them derive their whole 
pleasure from each other, they would inevitably fall in 
love, as it is called, with each other ; but at six months' 
end, if you would throw them both into public life 
where they might change partners at pleasure, each 
would soon forget that fondness which mutual de- 
pendence, and the paucity of general amusement alone, 
had caused, and each would separately feel delighted by 
their release/' 



piozzr. 43 

5 7 . Useless Singularity, — Cards. — Dress. — Dancing. 

Mr. Johnson was indeed unjustly supposed to be 
a lover of singularity. Few people had a more settled 
reverence for the world than he, or was less captivated 
hy new modes of behaviour introduced, or innovations 
on the long-received customs of common life. He 
hated the way of leaving a company without taking 
notice to the lady of the house that he was going ; and 
did not much like any of the contrivances by which 
ease has been lately introduced into society instead of 
ceremony, which had more of his approbation. 

Cards, dress, and dancing all found their advocates in 
Dr. Johnson, who inculcated, upon principle, the culti- 
vation of those arts, which many a moralist thinks him- 
self bound to reject, and many a Christian holds unfit 
to be practised. 

" No person," said he one day, u goes under-dressed 
till he thinks himself of consequence enough to forbear 
carrying the badge of his rank upon his back/' And in 
answer to the arguments urged by Puritans, Quakers, 
&c, against showy decorations of the human figure, 
I once heard him exclaim, u Oh, let us not be found, 
when our Master calls us, ripping the lace off our 
waistcoats, but the spirit of contention from our souls 
and tongues ! Let us all conform in outward customs, 
which are of no consequence, to the manners of those 
whom we live among, and despise such paltry dis- 
tinctions. Alas, Sir," continued he, " a man who 
cannot get to heaven in a green coat, will not find his 
way thither the sooner in a grey one." 

On an occasion of less consequence, when he turned 
his back on Lord Bolingbroke in the rooms at Bright- 
helmstone, he made this excuse : — " I am not obliged. 
Sir," said he to Mr. Thrale, who stood fretting, (( to 
find reasons for respecting the rank of him who will not 
condescend to declare it bv his dress, or some other 



44 JOHNSONIANA. 

visible mark : what are stars and other signs of su- 
periority made for ? " 

58. General Satire. — Physic. — Law. 
Though no man, perhaps, made such rough replies as 
Dr. Johnson, yet nobody had a more just aversion to 
general satire. He always hated and censured Swift for 
his unprovoked bitterness against the professors of me- 
dicine ; and used to challenge his friends, when they 
lamented the exorbitancy of physicians' fees, to produce 
him one instance of an estate raised by physic in Eng- 
land. When an acquaintance, too, was one day exclaim- 
ing against the tediousness of the law and its partiality 
— u Let us hear, Sir," said Johnson, " no general abuse; 
the law is the last result of human wisdom acting upon 
human experience for the benefit of the public." 

59. Unnecessary Scruples. 

As the mind of Dr. Johnson was greatly expanded, 
so his first care was for general, not particular or petty 
morality; and those teachers had more of his blame 
than praise, I think, who seek to oppress life with un- 
necessary scruples: " Scruples would/' as he observed, 
" certainly make men miserable, and seldom make them 
good. Let us ever," he said, ee studiously fly from 
those instructors against whom our Saviour denounces 
heavy judgments, for having bound up burdens grievous 
to be borne, and laid them on the shoulders of mortal 
men." 

No one had, however, higher notions of the hard task 
of true Christianity than Johnson^ whose daily terror 
lest he had not done enough originated in piety, but 
ended in little less than disease. Reasonable with regard 
to others, he had formed vain hopes of performing im- 
possibilities himself; and finding his good works ever 
below his desires and intent, filled his imagination with 



piozzi. 45 

fears that he should never obtain forgiveness for omis- 
sions of duty and criminal waste of time, 

60. Jesting, 
Mr. Johnson liked a frolic or a jest well enough ; 
though he had strange serious rules about it too ; and 
very angry was he if any body offered to be merry when 
he was disposed to be grave. " You have an ill-founded 
notion/* said he, Ci that it is clever to turn matters off 
with a joke, as the phrase is ; whereas, nothing produces 
enmity so certain, as one person's showing a disposition 
to be merry, when another is inclined to be either serious 
or displeased/' 

6l. Distressed Authors. 
No man told a story with so good a grace, or knew so 
well what would make an effect upon his auditors. 
"When he raised contributions for some distressed author, 
or wit in want, he often made us all more than amends 
by diverting descriptions of the lives they were then 
passing in corners, unseen by any body but himself and 
that odd old surgeon, Robert Levett, whom he kept in 
his house to tend the out-pensioners, and of whom he 
said most truly and sublimely, that 

" In misery's darkest caverns known, 
His ready help was ever nigh, 
Where hopeless anguish pourd his groan, 
And lonely want retired to die." 

I have forgotten the year, but it could scarcely I think 
be later than 1765 or 1766,, that he was called abruptly 
from our house after dinner, and returning in about 
three hours, said, he had been with an enraged author, 
whose landlady pressed him for payment within doors, 
while the bailiffs beset him without ; that he was drink- 
ing himself drunk with Madeira to drown care, and fret- 
ting over a novel which when finished was to L* hk 



4*6 JOHNSONIANA. 

whole fortune; but he could not get it done for distrac- 
tion, nor could he step out of doors to offer it to sale. 
Mr. Johnson therefore set away the bottle, and went to 
the bookseller, recommending the performance, and de- 
siring some immediate relief; which when he brought 
back to the writer, he called the woman of the house 
directly to partake of punch, and pass their time in 
merriment. ( ' ) 

There was a Mr. Boyce, too, who wrote some very 
elegant verses printed in the Magazines of five-and- 
twenty years ago, of whose ingenuity and distress I have 
heard Dr. Johnson tell some curious anecdotes ; parti- 
cularly, that when he was almost perishing with hunger, 
and some money was produced to purchase him a dinner, 
he got a bit of roast beef, but could not eat it without 
catchup, and laid out the last half-guinea he possessed in 
truffles and mushrooms, eating them in bed, too, for 
want of clothes, or even a shirt to sit up in. 

Another man, for whom he often begged, made as 
wild use of his friend's beneficence as these, spending 
in punch the solitary guinea which had been brought 
him one morning ; when resolving to add another claim- 
ant to a share of the bowl, besides a woman who always 
lived with him, and a footman who used to carry out 
petitions for charity, he borrowed a chairman's watch, 
and pawning it for half a crown, paid a clergyman to 
marry him to a fellow-lodger in the wretched house 
they all inhabited, and got so drunk over the guinea 
bowl of punch the evening of his wedding day, that 
having many years lost the use of one leg, he now con- 
trived to fall from the top of the stairs to the bottom, 
and break his arm ; in which condition his companions 
left him to call Mr. Johnson, who relating the series of 
his tragi-comical distresses, obtained from the Literary 
Ciab a seasonable relief 

(1) [Seeanfe, Vol. II. p. 193.1 



piozzi. 47 

62. The Literary Club. 
Of that respectable society I have heard him speak 
in the highpst terms, and with a magnificent panegyric 
on each member, when it consisted only of a dozen or 
fourteen friends ; but as soon as the necessity of enlarg- 
ing it brought in new faces, and took off from his con- 
fidence in the company, he grew less fond of the meet- 
ing, and loudly proclaimed his carelessness who might 
be admitted, when it was become a mere dinner club. 

63. Johnsons Incredulity. 
Mr. Johnson's incredulity amounted almost to disease, 
and I have seen it mortify his companions exceedingly. 
Two gentlemen, I perfectly well remember, dining with 
us at Streatham in the summer 1782, when Elliot's 
brave defence of Gibraltar was a subject of common 
discourse, one of these men naturally enough began some 
talk about red-hot balls thrown with surprising dexte- 
rity and effect : which Dr. Johnson having listened some 
time to — " I would advise you, Sir," said he with a 
cold sneer, <c never to relate this story again : you 
really can scarce imagine how very poor a figure you 
make in the telling of it." Our guest being bred a 
Quaker, and I believe a man of an extremely gentle 
disposition, needed no more reproofs for the same folly; 
so if he ever did speak again, it was in a low voice to 
the friend who came with him. The check was given 
before dinner, and after coffee I left the room. When 
in the evening, however, our companions were returned 
to London, and Mr. Johnson and myself were left alone, 
with only our usual family about us — ' ' I did not quarrel 
with those Quaker fellows," said he, very seriously. 
cc You did perfectly right," replied I ; " for they gave 
you no cause of offence." " No offence ! " returned he 
with an altered voice ; " and is it nothing then to sit 
whispering together when I am present, without ever 



48 JOHNSONIANA. 

directing their discourse towards me, or offering me a 
share in the conversation ? " That was because you 
frighted him who spoke first about those hot balls. 
" Why, Madam, if a creature is neither capable of giv- 
ing dignity to falsehood, nor willing to remain contented 
Adth the truth, he deserves no better treatment. " (*) 

Mr. Johnson's fixed incredulity ( 2 ) of every thing he 
heard, and his little care to conceal that incredulity, was 
teasing enough to be sure : and I saw Mr. Sharp was 
pained exceedingly, when relating the history of a 
hurricane that happened about that time in the West 
Indies, where, for aught I know, he had himself lost 
some friends too, he observed Dr. Johnson believed not a 
syllable of the account : — " For 't is so easy/' says he, 
"for a man to fill his mouth with a wonder, and run about 
telling the he before it can be detected, that I have no 
heart to believe hurricanes easily raised by the first 
inventor, and blown forwards by thousands more.'' I 
asked him once if he believed the story of the destruc- 

(1 ) Mr. Malone, in his MS. notes, is very indignant that Mrs. 
Piozzi has omitted to state what the story was which produced 
this observation, and because she has not done so questions the 
veracity of the whole anecdote ; but this is very unjust. Mrs. 
Piozzi's object was to exhibit Johnson's manners, and not to re- 
cord the minute details of the Quaker's story. — C. 

(2) Mr. Malone, in his MS. notes, observes on this passage, 
" Here is another gross misrepresentation. He had no fixed 
incredulity concerning every thing he heard ; but he had observed 
the great laxity with which almost every story is told, and therefore 
always examined it accurately, and frequently found some gross 
exaggeration. The writer herself had not the smallest regard for 
truth, as Johnson told Mr. Boswell {see his Life of Johnson), and 
hence this scrutinising habit of her guest was to her a very sore sub- 
ject." On this I must take leave to say, that Mr. Malone's ob- 
servation defeats itself; because if Dr. Johnson's incredulity 
was a sore subject with Mrs. Piozzi, she cannot be blamed for 
recording it. Mr. Malone might have questioned her judgment, 
in supposing that Johnson was equally incredulous as to other 
persons, but not her sincerity, in describing him as she found 
him; and if he found almost every story told with great laxity, 
is it surprising that he should have an habitual incredulity? C. 



PIOZZI. 49 

tion of Lisbon by an earthquake when it first happened: 
— " Oh ! not for six months/' said he, " at least : I did 
think that story too dreadful to be credited, and can 
hardly yet persuade myself that it was true to the full 
extent we all of us have heard." 

64. Contradiction. — Burney. — Pepys. — Shaking. 

Among the numberless people, however, whom I 
heard him flatly contradict, I never yet saw any one 
who did not take it patiently excepting Dr. Burney, 
from whose habitual softness of manners I little ex- 
pected such an exertion of spirit : the event was as little 
to be expected. Mr. Johnson asked his pardon gene- 
rously and genteelly, and when he left the room rose up 
to shake hands with him, that they might part in peace. 

On another occasion, when he had violently provoked 
Mr. Pepys ( v ), in a different but perhaps not a less 
offensive manner, till something much too like a quarrel 
was grown up between them, the moment he was gone, 
(e Now," says Dr. Johnson, " is Pepys gone home hating 
me, who love him better than I did before : he spoke 
in defence of his dead friend ; but though I hope / 
spoke better who spoke against him, yet all my elo- 
quence will gain me nothing but an honest man for my 
enemy ! " He did not, however, cordially love Mr. 
Pepys, though he respected his abilities. " I knew the 
dog was a scholar/' said he, when they had been dis- 
puting about the classics for three hours together one 
morning at Streatham ; u but that he had so much 
taste and so much knowledge I did not believe. I 
might have taken Barnard's word, though, for Barnard 
would not lie," 

We had got a little French print among us at 
Brighthelm stone, in November, 1782, of some people 
skaiting, with these lines written under : — 

(1) See ante, VoL VIII. p. 57. — C. 



50 JOHNSONIANA. 

" Sur un mince chrystal 1'hyver conduit leurs pas, 
Le precipice est sous la glace ; 
Telle est de nos plaisirs la legere surface, 
Glissez mortels ; n'appuyez pas." 

And I begged translations from every body. Dr. 
Johnson gave me this : — 

" O'er ice the rapid skaiter flies. 

With sport above and death below ; 

Where mischief lurks in gay disguise, 

Thus lightly touch and quickly go." 

He was, however, most exceedingly enraged when 
he knew that in the course of the season I had asked 
half a dozen acquaintance to do the same thing, and 
said, it was a piece of treachery, and done to make every 
body else look little when compared to my favourite 
friends the Pepyses, whose translations were unquestion- 
ably the best. I will insert them, because he did say 
so. This is the distich given me by Sir Lucas, to 
whom I owe more solid obligations^ no less than the 
power of thanking him for the life he saved, and whose 
least valuable praise is the correctness of his taste : — 

" O'er the ice as o'er pleasure you lightly should glide ; 
Both have gulphs which their flattering surfaces hide." 

This other more serious one was written by his 
brother : — 

" Swift o'er the level how the skaiters slide, 
And skim the glitt'ring surface as they go : 
Thus o'er life's specious pleasures lightly glide, 
But pause not, press not on the gulph below." 

Dr. Johnson seeing this last, and thinking a moment, 
repeated, — 

" O'er crackling ice, o'er gulphs profound, 
With nimble glide the skaiters play ; 
O'er treacherous pleasure's flow'ry ground 
Thus lightly skim, and haste away." 



piozzi. 51 

65. Severity. — Dogs and Wives. — Mrs. Johnson. 

When I once mentioned Shen stone's idea, that some 
little quarrel among lovers, relations,, and friends was 
useful, and contributed to their general happiness upon 
the whole, by making the soul feel her elastic force, and 
return to the beloved object with renewed delight ; — 
"" Why, what a pernicious maxim is this now," cries 
Johnson : cc all quarrels ought to be avoided studiously, 
particularly conjugal ones, as no one can possibly tell 
where they may end ; besides that lasting dislike is 
often the consequence of occasional disgust, and that 
the cup of life is surely bitter enough, without squeezing 
in the hateful rind of resentment." 

It was upon something like the same principle, and 
from his general hatred of refinement, that when I 
told him how Dr. Collier, in order to keep the servants in 
humour with his favourite dog, by seeming rough with 
the animal himself on many occasions, and crying out, 
" Why will nobody knock this cur's brains out ?" meant 
to conciliate their tenderness towards Pompey ; he re- 
turned me for answer, u that the maxim was evidently 
false,, and founded on ignorance of human life : that the 
servants would kick the dog the sooner for having ob- 
tained such a sanction to their severity : and I once," 
added he, " chid my wife for beating the cat before the 
maid, c who will now/ said I, ( treat puss with cruelty, 
perhaps, and plead her mistress's example/ '' 

I asked him upon this, if he ever disputed with his 
wife ? (I had heard that he loved her passionately.) 
M Perpetually," said he : " my wife had a particular 
reverence for cleanliness, and desired the praise of neat- 
ness in her dress and furniture, as many ladies do, till 
they become troublesome to their best friends, slaves to 
their own besoms, and only sigh for the hour of sweep- 
ing their husbands out of the house as dirt and useless 
lumber : c A clean floor is so comfortable/ she would say 
b 2 



52 JOHNSONIANA. 

sometimes, by way of twitting ; till at last I told her, 
that I thought we had had talk enough about the floor, 
we would now have a touch at the ceiling. 1 ' 

I have heard him blame her for a fault many people 
have, of setting the miseries of their neighbours half 
unintentionally, half wantonly before their eyes, showing 
them the bad side of their profession, situation, &c. 
He said, " she would lament the dependence of pupil- 
age to a young heir, &c. ; and once told a waterman 
who rowed her along the Thames in a wherry, that he 
was no happier than a galley slave, one being chained 
to the oar by authority, the other by want. I had, how- 
ever," said he, laughing, " the wit to get her daughter 
on my side always before we began the dispute. She 
read comedy better than any body he ever heard/' he 
said ; " in tragedy she mouthed too much/' 

66. Husband and Wife. — Boarding-Schools. 

When any disputes arose between our married ac- 
quaintance, Mr. Johnson always sided with the husband, 
" whom," he said, " the woman had probably provoked 
so often, she scarce knew when or how she had dis- 
obliged him first." " Women," says Dr. Johnson, 
<c give great offence by a contemptuous spirit of non- 
compliance on petty occasions. The man calls his wife 
to walk with him in the shade, and she feels a strange 
desire just at that moment to sit in the sun: he offers 
to read her a play, or sing her a song, and she calls the 
children in to disturb them, or advises him to seize that 
opportunity of settling the family accounts. Twenty 
such tricks will the faithfulest wife in the world not 
refuse to play, and then look astonished when the fellow 
fetches in a mistress." 

" Boarding-schools were established," continued he, 
{e for the conjugal quiet of the parents : the two part- 
ners cannot agree which child to fondle, nor how to 



PIOZZI. 



53 



fondle them, so they put the young ones to school, and 
remove the cause of contention. The little girl pokes 
her head, the mother reproves her sharply : ' Do not 
mind your mamma,' says the father, ( my dear, but do 
your own way.' The mother complains to me of this : 
' Madam,' said I, e your husband is right all the while ; 
he is with you but two hours of the day perhaps, and 
then you tease him by making the child cry. Are not 
ten hours enough for tuition ? And are the hours of 
pleasure so frequent in life, that when a man gets a 
couple of quiet ones to spend in familiar chat with his 
wife, they must be poisoned by petty mortifications ? 
Put missey to school ; she will learn to hold her head 
like her neighbours, and you will no longer torment 
your family for want of other talk.' M 

67. Vacuity of Life. 
The vacuity of life had, at some early period of his 
life, struck so forcibly on the mind of Mr. Johnson, 
that it became, by repeated impression, his favourite 
hypothesis, and the general tenor of his reasonings com- 
monly ended there, wherever they might begin. Such 
things, therefore, as other philosophers often attribute 
to various and contradictory causes, appeared to him 
uniform enough ; all was done to fill up the time, upon 
his principle. 1 used to tell him, that it was like the 
clown's answer, in " As You Like It," of " Oh Lord, 
Sir !" for that it suited every occasion. One man, for 
example, was profligate and wild, as we call it, followed 
the girls, or sat still at the gaming-table. " Why, life 
must be filled up," says Johnson, " and the man who 
is not capable of intellectual pleasures must content 
himself with such as his senses can afford." Another 
was a hoarder : " Why, a fellow must do something ; 
and what so easy to a narrow mind as hoarding half- 
pence till they turn into sixpences ? " 



e 3 



54} JOHNSONIANA. 

68. Avarice. 
Avarice was a vice against which, however, I never 
much heard Mr. Johnson declaim, till one represented 
it to him connected with cruelty, or some such disgrace- 
ful companion. " Do not," said he, " discourage your 
children from hoarding, if they have a taste to it : who- 
ever lays up his penny rather than part with it for a 
cake, at least is not the slave of gross appetite ; and 
shows besides a preference, always to be esteemed, of 
the future to the present moment. Such a mind may 
be made a good one ; but the natural spendthrift, who 
grasps his pleasures greedily and coarsely, and cares for 
nothing but immediate indulgence, is very little to be 
valued above a negro." 

69. Friendship. 
We were speaking of a gentleman who loved his 
friend : " Make him prime minister," says Johnson, 
fC and see how long his friend will be remembered/' 
But he had a rougher answer for me, when I com- 
mended a sermon preached by an intimate acquaintance 
of our own at the trading end of the town. " What 
was the subject, Madam," says Dr. Johnson ? " Friend- 
ship, Sir," replied I. " Why now, is it not strange that 
a wise man, like our dear little Evans, should take it in 
his head to preach on such a subject, in a place where 
no one can he thinking of it ? " " Why, what are they 
thinking upon, Sir," said I ? " Why, the men are 
thinking of their money, I suppose, and the women are 
thinking of their mops." 

70. Laced Coats. — Gentlemen. 
Dr. Johnson did not like that the upper ranks should 
be dignified with the name of the world. Sir Joshua 
Reynolds said one day, that nobody wore laced coats now; 
and that once every body wore them. " See now," says 
Johnson, " how absurd that is ; as if the bulk of man- 



piozzi. 55 

kind consisted of fine gentlemen that came to him to sit 
for their pictures. If every man who wears a laced cout 
(that he can pay for) was extirpated, who would miss 
them ? " With all this haughty contempt of gentility, 
no praise was more welcome to Dr. Johnson, than that 
which he said had the notions or manners of a gentle, 
man : which character I have heard him define with 
accuracy, and describe with elegance. " Officers/' he 
said, (( were falsely supposed to have the carriage of 
gentlemen ; whereas no profession left a stronger brand 
behind it than that of a soldier ; and it was the essence 
of a gentleman's character to bear the visible mark of no 
profession whatever. ,, 

71. Molly Aston. 
" Molly Aston," says Dr. Johnson, " was a beauty 
«°nd a scholar, and a wit and Whig ; and she talked all 
in praise of liberty : and so I made this epigram upon 
her. She was the loveliest creature I ever saw ! 

* Liber ut esse velim, suasisti, pulchra Maria, 
Ut maneam liber— .pulchra Maria, vale ! "' 

" Will it do this way in English, Sir ?" said I, — 

" Persuasions to freedom fall oddly from you ; 
If freedom we seek — fair Maria, adieu ! " ( l) 

" It will do well enough/' replied he, " but it is 
translated by a lady, and the ladies never loved Molly 
Aston/' 

I asked him what his wife thought of this attach- 
ment ? " She was jealous, to be sure/' said he, " and 
teased me sometimes when I would let her ; and one 
day, as a fortune-telling gipsy passed us when we 
were walking out in company with two or three friends 
in the country, she made the wench look at my hand, 
but soon repented her curiosity ; for, says the gipsy, 
' Your heart is divided, Sir, between a Betty and a 

(1) [See ante, Vol, VII p. 200.] 
£ 4 



56 johnsoniaisa. 

Molly : Betty loves you best, but you take most delight 
in Molly's company.' When I turned about to laugh, I 
saw my wife was crying. Pretty charmer ! she had no 
reason ! " 

72. Mrs. Fitzherbert. 

It was, I believe, long after the currents of life had 
driven him to a great distance from this lady, that he 
spent much of his time with Mrs. Fitzherbert, of whom 
he always spoke with esteem and tenderness, and with 
a veneration very difficult to deserve. " That woman/* 
said he. " loved her husband as we hope and desire to 
be loved by our guardian angel. Fitzherbert was a 
gay, good-humoured fellow, generous of his money and 
of his meat, and desirous of nothing but cheerful so- 
ciety among people distinguished in some way, in any 
way I think ; for Rousseau and St. Austin would have 
been equally welcome to his table and to his kindness : 
the lady, however, was of another way of thinking ; her 
first care was to preserve her husband's soul from cor- 
ruption ; her second, to keep his estate entire for their 
children : and I owed my good reception in the family 
to the idea she had entertained, that I was fit company 
for Fitzherbert, whom I loved extremely. ' They 
dare not/ said she, ' swear, and take other convers- 
ation-liberties before you' " I asked if her husband 
returned her regard ? " He felt her influence too 
powerfully," replied Mr. Johnson : ec no man will be 
fond of what forces him daily to feel himself inferior. 
She stood at the door of her paradise in Derbyshire, 
like the angel with the flaming sword, to keep the 
devil at a distance. But she was not immortal, poor 
dear ! she died, and her husband felt at once afflicted 
and released." I inquired if she was handsome? 
u She would have been handsome for a queen/' replied 
the panegyrist ; " her beauty had more in it of majesty 
than of attraction,, more of the dignity of virtue than 
the vivacity of wit." 



piozzi. 57 

73. Miss Boothby. 
The friend of this lady, Miss Boothby, succeeded her 
in the management of Mr. Fitzherbert's family, and 
in the esteem of Dr. Johnson ; though he told me she 
pushed her piety to bigotry, her devotion to enthusiasm ; 
that she somewhat disqualified herself for the duties of 
tJiis life, by her perpetual aspirations after the next : 
such was, however, the purity of her mind, he said, and 
such the graces of her manner, that Lord Lyttelton and 
he used to strive for her preference with an emulation 
that occasioned hourly disgust, and ended in lasting 
animosity. " You may see," said he to me, when the 
Poets' Lives were printed, " that dear Boothby is at my 
heart still. (*) She would delight in that fellow Lyttel- 
ton's company though, all that I could do ; and I cannot 

(1) Notwithstanding the mention of the "heart" in this anec- 
dote and in Johnson's letter to this lady in January 1755 (see 
ante, Vol. VIII. p. 28.), there seems no reason to suppose that 
(as Miss Seward asserted) this was really an affair of the heart 
— " an early attachment." The other letters, of which Boswell 
says that " their merit is not so apparent" (but which will be 
hereafter given), are written in still warmer terms of affection : 
Miss Boothby is " a sweet angel," and " a dear angel," and his 
** heart is full of tenderness ; " but when the whole series of 
letters are read, it will be seen that the friendship began late in 
th2 life of both parties ; that it was wholly platonic, or, to speak 
more properly, spiritual; and that the letters in which these 
very affectionate expressions occur <p ere written when Johnson 
believed that Miss Boothby was dying. It must also be ob- 
served, that it is very unlikely that Johnson should seriously 
confess that he had been so unjust to Lord Lvttelton from any 
private pique ; and it seems, by his letters to Mrs. Thrale ( April 
1779), that he had no such feeling towards Lyttelton, and that 
he had applied to his lordship's friends to write the life ; and 
finally, it is to be noted, Lord Lyttelton married his second lady 
in 1749, and Johnson does not seem to have known Miss Boothby 
till 1754. In short, I have no doubt, nor will any one who 
reads the letters and considers how little personal intercourse 
there could have been between Miss Boothby and Dr. Johnson, 
that the whole story is a mistake, founded, perhaps, on some 
confusion between Miss Boothby and Miss Aston, and coun- 
tenanced, it must be admitted, by the warm expressions of the 
letters. — C. 



58 J0HNS0N1ANA. 

forgive even his memory the preference given by a 
ir.ind like hers/' 

I have heard Baretti say, that when this lady di d, 
Dr. Johnson was almost distracted with his grief; and 
that the friends about him had much ado to calm the 
violence of his emotion. 

74. Death of Mrs, Johnson. 
Dr. Taylor too related once to Mr. Thrale and me, 
that when he lost his wife, the negro Francis ran away, 
though in the middle of the night, to Westminster, to 
fetch Dr. Taylor to his master, who was all but wild 
with excess of sorrow, and scarce knew him when he 
arrived : after some minutes, however, the doctor pro. 
posed their going to prayers, as the only rational method 
of calming the disorder this misfortune had occasioned 
in both their spirits. Time, and resignation to the will 
of God, cured every breach in his heart before I made 
acquaintance with him, though he always persisted in 
saying he never rightly recovered the loss of his wife. 
It is in allusion to her that he records the observation 
of a female critic, as he calls her, in Gay's Life ; and 
the lady of great beauty and elegance, mentioned in the 
criticisms upon Pope's epitaphs, was Miss Molly Aston. 
The person spoken of in his strictures upon Young's 
poetry, is the writer of these Anecdotes. 

75. Improvisation. — Metastasio. 
Mr. Johnson did indeed possess an almost Tuscan 
power of improvvisation : when he called to my daughter, 
who was consulting with a friend about a new gown and 
dressed hat she thought of wearing at an assembly, thus 
suddenly, while she hoped he was not listening to their 
conversation, — 

" Wear the gown, and wear the hat, 

Snatch thy pleasures while they last ; 
Hadst thou nine lives like a cat, 
Soon those nine lives would be past.*' 



piozzi. 59 

It is impossible to deny to such little sallies the power 
of the Florentines, who do not permit their verses to be 
ever written down (though they often deserve it), because, 
as they express it, cosi se perderebbi la poca gloria. 

As for translations, we used to make him sometimes 
run off with one or two in a good humour. He was 
praising this song of Metastasio, — 

" Deh, se piacermi vuoi, 
Lascia i sospetti tuoi, 
Non mi turbar conquesto 

Molesto dubitar : 
Chi ciecamente crede, 
Impegna a serbar fede ; 
Chi sempre inganno aspetta, 

Alletta ad ingannar." 

' Should you like it in English, " said he, " thus ? — 

Would you hope to gain my heart, 
Bid your teasing doubts depart ; 
He who blindly trusts, will find 
Faith from every generous mind : 
He who still expects deceit, 
Only teaches how to cheat." 

Mr. Baretti coaxed him likewise one day at Streatham 
out of a translation of Emirena's speech to the false 
courtier Aquileius, and it is probably printed before 
now, as I think two or three people took copies ; bu 
perhaps it has slipped their memories. 

" Ah ! tu in corte invecchiasti, e giurerei 
Che fra i pochi non sei tenace ancora 
Dell' antica onesta : quando bisogna, 
Saprai sereno in volto 
Vezzeggiare un nemico ; accio vi cada, 
Aprirgli innanzi un precipizio, e poi 
Piangerne la caduta. Ofrrirti a tutti 
E non esser che tuo ; di false lodi 
V estir le accuse, ed aggravar le colpe 
Nel fame la difesa, ognor dal trono 



60 JOHNSONIANA. 

I ouoni allontanar ; d'ogni castigo 
Lasciar l'odio alio scettro, e d'ogni dono 

II merito usurpar : tener nascosto 
Sotto un zelo apparente un empio fine, 
Ne fabbricar che sulle altrui rouine." 

" Grown old in courts, thou art not surely one 
Who keeps the rigid rules of ancient honour ; 
Well skill'd to soothe a foe with looks of kindness, 
To sink the fatal precipice before him, 
And then lament his fall with seeming friendship : 
Open to all, true only to thyself, 

Thou know'st those arts which blast with envious praise, 
Which aggravate a fault with feign 'd excuses, 
And drive discountenanced virtue from the throne : 
That leave the blame of rigour to the prince, 
And of his every gift usurp the merit ; 
That hide in seeming zeal a wicked purpose, 
And only build upon another's ruin." 

These characters Dr. Johnson, however, did not de- 
light in reading, or in hearing of : he always maintained 
that the world was not half as wicked as it was repre- 
sented ; and he might very well continue in that opi- 
nion, as he resolutely drove from him every story that 
could make him change it ; and when Mr. BickerstafFs 
flight confirmed the report of his guilt, and my husband 
said, in answer to Johnson's astonishment, that he had 
long been a suspected man : cc By those who look close 
to the ground^ dirt will be seen, Sir," was the lofty reply: 
e( I hope I see things from a greater distance." 

76. Whining Wives. — Sleepy -souled Wives. — Honey - 
suckle Wives, 
I pitied a friend before him, who had a whining wife 
that found every thing painful to her, and nothing 
pleasing. — (C He does not know that she whimpers/' 
says Johnson; " when a door has creaked for a fort- 
night together, you may observe — the master will 
scarcely give sixpence to get it oiled." 



piozzi. 61 

Of another lady, more insipid than offensive, I once 
heard him say, " She has some softness indeed, but so 
has a pillow." And when one observed in reply, that 
her husband's fidelity and attachment were exemplary, 
notwithstanding this low account at which her perfec- 
tions were rated — (i Why, Sir/' cries the Doctor, 
" being married to those sleepy-souled women, is just 
like playing at cards for nothing : no passion is excited, 
and the time is filled up. I do not, however, envy a 
fellow one of those honeysuckle wives for my part, as 
they are but creepers at best, and commonly destroy the 
tree they so tenderly cling about." 

77* Wales and Scotland. 

For a lady of quality, since dead, who received us at 
her husband's seat in Wales with less attention than he 
had long been accustomed to, he had a rougher denun- 
ciation : c; That woman/' cries Johnson, " is like sour 
small beer, the beverage of her table, and produce of the 
wretched country she lives in : like that, she could never 
have been a good thing, and even that bad thing is 
spoiled." This was in the same vein of asperity, and I 
believe with something like the same provocation, that he 
observed of a Scotch lady, " that she resembled a dead """2 
nettle ; were she alive," said he, " she would sting." 

Mr. Johnson's hatred of the Scotch is so well known, 
and so many of his bons mots expressive of that hatred 
have been already repeated in so many books and pam- 
phlets, that 'tis perhaps scarcely worth while to write 
down the conversation between him and a friend of that 
nation who always resides in London, and who at his 
return from the Hebrides asked him, with a firm tone 
of voice, what he thought of his country? u That 
it is a very vile country to be sure, Sir," returned for 
answer Dr. Johnson. (i Well, Sir ! " replies the other, 
somewhat mortified, " God made it." u Certainly he 
did," answers Mr. Johnson again; " but we must 



62 JOHNSONIANA. 

always remember that he made it for Scotchmen, and 
comparisons are odious, Mr. Strahan ; but God made 
hell." 

78. Story -telling. — Foote. — Hawkins Browne. 

Dr. Johnson did not, I think, much delight in that 
kind of conversation which consists in telling stories : 
e< Every body," said he, " tells stories of me, and I tell 
stories of nobody. I do not recollect/' added he, 
" that I have ever told you, that have been always 
favourites, above three stories; but I hope I do not 
play the old fool, and force people to hear uninterest- 
ing narratives, only because I once was diverted with 
them myself/' 

He was not, however, an enemy to that sort of talk 
from the famous Mr. Foote, " whose happiness of 
manner in relating was such," he said, cc as subdued 
arrogance and roused stupidity : His stories were truly 
like those of Biron in c Love's Labour Lost,' so very 
attractive, — 

• That aged ears play'd truant with his tales, 
And younger hearings were quite ravished ; 
So sweet and voluble was his discourse." 

<e Of all conversers, however," added he, " the late 
Hawkins Browne was the most delightful with whom 
I ever was in company : his talk was at once so elegant 
so apparently artless, so pure, and so pleasing, it seemed 
a perpetual stream of sentiment, enlivened by gaiety, 
and sparkling with images." 

79. George Psalmanazar. — Sick-beds. 
When I asked Dr. Johnson, who was the test man 
he had ever known ? ' ' Psalmanazar," was the unex- 
pected reply : he said, likewise, " that though a native 
of France, as his friend imagined, he possessed more of 
the English language than any one of the other foreign- 
ers who had separately fallen in his way. Though 



piozzi. 63 

there was much esteem however, there was I believe 
but little confidence between them ; they conversed 
merely about general topics, religion and learning, of 
which both were undoubtedly stupendous examples ; 
and, with regard to true Christian perfection, I have 
heard Johnson say, " that George Psalmanazar's piety, 
penitence, and virtue exceeded almost what we read as 
wonderful, even in the lives of saints/' 

I forget in what year it was that this extraordinary 
person lived and died at a house in Old Street, where 
Mr. Johnson was witness to his talents and virtues, and 
to his final preference of the Church of England, after 
having studied, disgraced, and adorned so many modes 
of worship. The name he went by, was not supposed 
by his friend to be that of his family, but all inquiries 
were vain : his reasons for concealing his original were 
penitentiary ; he deserved no other name than that of 
the impostor, he said. That portion of the Universal 
History which was written by him, does not seem to me 
to be composed with peculiar spirit, but all traces of the 
wit and the wanderer were probably worn out before he 
undertook the work. His pious and patient endurance 
of a tedious illness, ending in an exemplary death, con- 
firmed the strong impression his merit had made upon 
the mind of Mr. Johnson. " It is so very difficult/' 
said he, " always for a sick man not to be a scoundrel. 
Oh ! set the pillows soft, here is Mr. Grumbler o'com- 
ing : Ah ! let no air in for the w-orld^ Mr. Grumbler 
will be here presently." 

This perpetual preference is so offensive where the 
privileges of sickness are besides supported by wealth, 
and nourished by dependence, that one cannot much 
wonder that a rough mind is revolted by them. It was 
however at once comical and touchant (as the French 
call it), to observe Mr. Johnson so habitually watchful 
against this sort of behaviour, that he was often ready 



64 JOHNSONIANA 

to suspect himself of it ; and when one asked him 
gently how he did, — " Ready to become a scoundrel. 
Madam/' would commonly be the answer: " with a little 
more spoiling you will, I think, make me a complete 
rascal." 

80. Johnson and Goldsmith. 

Johnson made Goldsmith a comical answer one day, 
when seeming to repine at the success of Beattie's " Essay 
on Truth," — " Here 's such a stir," said he, (C about a 
fellow that has written one book, and I have written 
many." " Ah, doctor," says his friend, " there go two 
and forty sixpences you know to one guinea." 

They had spent an evening with Eaton Graham too ; 
I remember hearing it was at some tavern. His heart 
was open, and he began inviting away; told what 
he could do to make his college agreeable, and begged 
the visit might not be delayed. Goldsmith thanked 
him, and proposed setting out with Mr. Johnson for 
Buckinghamshire in a fortnight; ei Nay hold, Dr. 
Minor" says the other, " I did not invite you." 

Many such mortifications arose in the course of their 
intimacy to be sure, but few more laughable than when 
the newspapers had tacked them together as the pedant 
and his flatterer in " Love's Labour Lost." Dr. Gold- 
smith came to his friend, fretting and foaming, and 
vowing vengeance against the printer, &c, till Mr. 
Johnson, tired of the bustle, and desirous to think of 
something else, cried out at last, " Why, what would'st 
thou have, dear doctor ! who the plague is hurt with all 
this nonsense ? and how is a man the worse, I wonder, 
in his health, purse, or character, for being called 
Holofernes?" "I do not know," replies the other, 
- c how you may relish being called Holofernes, but I do 
not like at least to play Goodman Dull" 



piozzi. 65 

81 . Abuse and Flattery, — Hannah More. 

Dr. Johnson was famous for disregarding public 
abuse. When the people criticised and answered his 
pamphlets, papers, &c. " Why now, these fellows are 
only advertising my book/' he would say ; " it is surely 
better a man should be abused than forgotten/' When 
Churchill nettled him however, it is certain he felt 
the sting, or that poet's works would hardly have been 
left out of the edition. But of that I have no 
right to decide : the booksellers, perhaps, did not put 
Churchill on their list. I know Mr, Johnson was ex- 
ceedingly zealous to declare how very little he had to do 
with the selection. Churchill's works, too, might possibly 
be rejected by him upon a higher principle ; the high- 
est indeed, if he was inspired by the same laudable 
motive which made him reject every authority for a 
word in his dictionary, that could only be gleaned from 
writers dangerous to religion or morality : — C( I would 
not," said he, " send people to look for words in a book, 
that by such a casual seizure of the mind might chance 
to mislead it for ever." In consequence of this deli- 
cacy, Mrs. Montagu once observed, that w r ere an 
angel to give the imprimatur, Dr. Johnson's works 
were among those very few which would not be lessened 
by a line. That such praise, from such a lady, should 
delight him, is not strange ; insensibility in a case like 
that, must have been the result alone of arrogance acting 
on stupidity. 

Mr. Johnson had, indeed, no dislike to the commend- 
ations which he knew he deserved : " What signifies 
protesting so against flattery !"' would he cry ; " when a 
person speaks- well of one, it must he either true or 
false, you know; if true, let us rejoice in his good 
opinion ; if he lies, it is a proof at least that he loves 
more to please me, than to sit silent when he need say 
nothing." 

That natural roughness of his manner, so often men- 

VOL. IX. F 



66 JOHNSONIANA. 

tioned, would, notwithstanding the regularity of his 
notions, burst through them all from time to time ; and 
he once bade a very celebrated lady (*), who praised him 
with too much zeal perhaps, or perhaps too strong an 
emphasis (which always offended him), " consider what 
her flattery was worth, before she choked him with it." 
A few more winters passed in the talking world, showed 
him the value of that friend's commendations however ; 
and he was very sorry for the disgusting speech he 
made her. 

82. Conversation without Effort 
I used to think Mr. Johnson's determined preference 
of a cold monotonous talker over an emphatical and 
violent one, would make him quite a favourite among 
the men of ton, whose insensibility, or affectation of 
perpetual calmness, certainly did not give to him the 
offence it does to many. He loved i( conversation 
without effort," he said : and the encomiums I have 
heard him so often pronounce on the manners of Top- 
ham Beauclerc in society, constantly ended in that 
peculiar praise, that " it was without effort." 

83. Richardson. 

We were talking of Richardson who wrote Clarissa : 
?' You think I love flattery," says Dr. Johnson, " and 
so I do ; but a little too much always disgusts me : 
that fellow Richardson, on the contrary, could not be 
contented to sail quietly down the stream of reputation, 
without longing to taste the froth from every stroke of 
the oar." 

84. Newspaper Abuse. 

With regard to slight insults from newspaper abuse, 
I have already declared his notions : " they sting one," 
says he, " but as a fly stings a horse ; and the eagle 
will not catch flies.' , 

(1) [Hannah More. See ante, Vol. VII. p. 137.] 



piozzi. 67 

85. Death and Sickness. — Gar rick. — Thrale. 

Knowing the state of Mr. Johnson's nerves, and how 
easily they were affected, I forbore reading in a new 
magazine one day, the death of a Samuel Johnson who 
expired that month ; but my companion, snatching up 
the book, saw it himself, and contrary to my ex- 
pectation, — ' ' Oh ! " said he ; " I hope death will now 
be glutted with Sam. Johnsons, and let me alone for 
some time to come : I read of another namesake's de- 
parture last week." 

Though Mr. Johnson was commonly affected, even 
to agony, at the thoughts of a friend's dying, he 
troubled himself very little with the complaints they 
might make to him about ill health. " Dear Doctor," 
said he one day to a common acquaintance, who lamented 
the tender state of his inside, 4f do not be like the 
spider, man ; and spin conversation thus incessantly out 
of thy own bowels/' 

I told him of another friend, who suffered grievously 
with the gout : — " He will live a vast many years for 
all that," replied he, " and then what signifies how 
much he suffers ? but he will die at last, poor fellow, 
there 's the misery ; gout seldom takes the fort by a 
coup-de-main, but, turning the siege into a blockade, 
obliges it to surrender at discretion." 

A lady he thought well of was disordered in her 
head : — i( What help has she called in ? " inquired 
Johnson. " Dr. James, Sir," was the reply. <c What 
is her disease ? " " Oh, nothing positive, rather a 
gradual and gentle decline." " She will die then, 
pretty dear ! " answered he : ' e When death's pale horse 
runs away with persons on full speed, an active phy- 
sician may possibly give them a turn ; but if he carries 
them on an even slow pace, down hill too ! no care nor 
skill can save them." 

When Garrick was on his last sick-bed, no argu- 
ments, or recitals of such facts as I had heard, would 
F 2 



63 jOHAfcONIANA. 

persuade Mr. Johnson of his danger: he had pre- 
possessed himself with a notion,, that to say a man was 
sick, was very near wishing him so ; and few things of- 
fended him moie, than prognosticating even the death 
of an ordinary acquaintance. " Ay, ay/' said he, 
" Swift knew the world pretty well, when he said, 
that 

{ Some dire misfortune to portend, 
No enemy can match a friend.' " 

The danger then of Mr. Garrick, or of Mr. Thrale 
whom he loved better, was an image which no one 
durst present before his view : he always persisted in 
the possibility and hope of their recovering disorders 
from which no human creatures, by human means 
alone, ever did recover. His distress for their loss was, 
for that very reason, poignant to excess ; but his fears of 
his own salvation were excessive : his truly tolerant 
spirit, and Christian charity, which " hopeth all things," 
and " believeth all things," made him rely securely on 
the safety of his friends, while his earnest aspiration 
after a blessed immortality made him cautious of his 
own steps, and timorous concerning their consequences. 
He knew how much had been given, and filled his 
mind with fancies of how much would be required, till 
his impressed imagination was often disturbed by them, 
and his health suffered from the sensibility of his too 
tender conscience : a real Christian is so apt to find his 
task above his power of performance ! 

86. Belief. — Opinion. 
Mr. Johnson did not, however, give into ridi- 
culous refinements either of speculation or practice, 
or suffer himself to be deluded by specious appearances, 
" I have had dust thrown in my eyes too often,' 
would he say, " to be blinded so. Let us never con* 
found matters of belief with matters of opinion." 



piozzi. 69 

87. Hope* — Possession. 
Some one urged in his presence the preference of 
hope to possession ; and, as I remember, produced an 
Italian sonnet on the subject. " Let us not," cries 
Johnson, " amuse ourselves with subtleties and sonnets, 
when speaking about hope, which is the follower of 
faith and the precursor of eternity ; but if you only 
mean those air- built hopes which to-day excites and to- 
morrow will destroy, let us talk away, and remember 
that we only talk of the pleasures of hope : we feel 
those of possession, and no man in his senses would 
change the last for the first : such hope is a mere 
bubble, that by a gentle breath may be blown to what 
size you will almost, but a rough blast bursts it at once. 
Hope is an amusement rather than a good, and adapted 
to none but very tranquil minds." 

88. Unprofitable Chat. 
Mr. Johnson hated what we call unprofitable chat ; 
and to a gentleman who had disserted some time about 
the natural history of the mouse — (< I wonder what 
such a one would have said," cried Johnson, " if he had 
ever had the luck to see a lion ! " 

89. Apparitions. 
I well remember that at Brighthelm stone once, when 
he was not present, Mr. Beauclerc asserted that he was 
afraid of spirits ; and I, who was secretly offended at 
the charge, asked him, the first opportunity I could 
find, what ground he had ever given to the world for 
such a report ? " I can/' replied he, " recollect nothing 
nearer it, than my telling Dr. Lawrence many years 
ago, that a long time after my poor mother's death, 
I heard her voice call Sam ! " What answer did the 
doctor make to your story, Sir," said I ? " None in 
the world," replied he ; and suddenly changed the con- 
f 3 



70 JOHNSONIANA. 

versation. Now, as Mr. Johnson had a most unshaken 
faith, without any mixture of credulity, this story must 
either have heen strictly true, or his persuasion of its 
truth the effect of disordered spirits. I relate the anec- 
dote precisely as he told it me ; but could not prevail on 
him to draw out the talk into length, for further satis- 
faction of my curiosity. 

90. Talents and Erudition. 

He always made a great difference in his esteem 
between talents and erudition ; and when he saw a per- 
son eminent for literature, though wholly unconversable, 
it fretted him. " Teaching such tonies," said he to me 
one day, " is like setting a lady's diamonds in lead, 
which only obscures the lustre of the stone, and makes 
the possessor ashamed on V 

91. Every. day Knowledge. 

Useful, and what we call every-day knowledge had 
the most of his just praise. " Let your boy learn 
arithmetic, dear Madam," was his advice to the mother 
of a rich young heir : cc he will not then be a prey to 
every rascal which this town swarms with : teach him 
the value of money, and how to reckon it ; ignorance 
to a wealthy lad of one-and- twenty is only so much fat 
to a sick sheep : it just serves to call the rooks about 
him ; — 

And all that prey on vice or folly 

Joy to see their quarry fly ; 
Here the gamester, light and jolly, 
There the lender, grave and sly." 

These improviso lines, making part of a long copy of 
verses which my regard for the youth (*), on whose 
birthday they were written, obliges me to suppress lest 
they should give him pain, show a mind of surprising 

(!) [Sir John Lade. See ante, Vol. VIII. p. 414.] 



PTOZZT. 71 

activity and warmth ; the more so, as he was pas* 
seventy years of age when he composed them. 

92. Mental Decay. 
But nothing more certainly offended Mr. Johnson, 
than the idea of a man's faculties (mental ones I mean) 
decaying by time. " It is not true, Sir," would he say ; 
" what a man could once do, he would always do, unless 
indeed by dint of vicious indolence, and compliance with 
the nephews and nieces who crowd round an old fellow, 
and help to tuck him in, till he, contented with the ex- 
change of fame for ease, e'en resolves to let them set the 
pillows at his back, and gives no further proof of his 
existence than just to suck the jelly that prolongs it." 

93. Life and Romance. 
For such a life, or such a death, Dr. Johnson was in- 
deed never intended by Providence : his mind was like 
a warm climate, which brings every thing to perfection 
suddenly and vigorously, not like the alembicated pro- 
ductions of artificial fire, which always betray the 
difficulty of bringing them forth when their size is dis- 
proportionate to their flavour. " Je ferais un Roman 
tout comme un autre, mais la vie nest point un Roman" 
says a famous French writer ; and this was so certainly 
the opinion of the author of the Rambler, that all his 
conversation precepts tended towards the dispersion of 
romantic ideas, and were chiefly intended to promote 
the cultivation of 

" That which before thee lies in daily life. " 

94. Clarissa. — Lear. — Iago. — Falstaff. 
And when he talked of authors, his praise went 
spontaneously to such passages as are sure, in his own 
phrase, to leave something behind them useful on com- 
mon occasions, or observant of common manners. For 
example, it was not the two last, but the two first, 
f 4 



72 JOHNSONIANA. 

volumes of Clarissa that he prized ; cc for give me a 
sick bed, and a~ttylirg~ lady/' said he, " and I '11 be 
pathetic myself : but Richardson had picked the kernel 
of life," he said, " while Fielding was contented with 
the husk." It was not King Lear cursing his daugh- 
ters or deprecating the storm, that I remember his 
commendations of; but Iago's ingenious malice and 
subtle revenge ; or Prince Hal's gay compliance with 
the vices of Falstaff, whom he all along despised. 
Those plays had, indeed, no rivals in Johnson's favour : 
" No man but Shakspeare," he said, " could have 
drawn Sir John." 

95. Addison s Prose. 
His manner of criticising and commending Addison's 
prose, was the same in conversation as we read it in 
the printed strictures, and many of the expressions 
used have been heard to fall from him on common 
occasions. It was notwithstanding observable enough 
(or I fancied so), that he did never like, though he 
always thought fit to praise it ; and his praises resem- 
bled those of a man who extols the superior elegance of 
high painted porcelain, while he himself always chooses 
to eat off plate. I told him so one day, and he neither 
denied it nor appeared displeased* 

96. The Pathetic in Poetry. 
Of the pathetic in poetry he never liked to speak ; 
and the only passage I ever heard him applaud as par- 
ticularly tender in any common book, was Jane Shore's 
exclamation in the last act, — 

" Forgive me ! but forgive me ! " 

It was not, however, from the want of a susceptible 
heart that he hated to cite tender expressions ; for he 
was more strongly and more violently affected by the 
force of words representing ideas capable of affecting 



piozzi. 75 

him at all, than any other man in the world, I believe ; 
and when he would try to repeat the celebrated Prosa 
Ecclesiastica pro Mortuis, as it is called, beginning 
Dies irce, Dies ilia, he could never pass the stanza 
ending thus, Tantus labor non sit cassus, without 
bursting into a flood of tears ; which sensibility I used 
to quote against him when he would inveigh against 
devotional poetry, and protest that all religious verses 
were cold and feeble, and unworthy the subject ; which 
ought to be treated with higher reverence, he said, than 
either poets or painters could presume to excite or 
bestow. 

97. Promptitude of Thought. 
Promptitude of thought, and quickness of expression, 
were among the peculiar felicities of Johnson. His 
notions rose up like the dragon's teeth sowed by Cad- 
mus all ready clothed, and in bright armour too, fit for 
immediate battle. He was therefore (as somebody is 
said to have expressed it) a tremendous converser, and 
few people ventured to try their skill against an an- 
tagonist with whom contention was so hopeless. One 
gentleman, however, who dined at a nobleman's house 
in his company and that of Mr. Thrale, to whom I 
was obliged for the anecdote, was willing to enter the 
lists in defence of King William's character ; and having 
opposed and contradicted Johnson two or three times 
petulantly enough, the master of the house began to 
feel uneasy, and expect disagreeable consequences : to 
avoid which he said, loud enough for the Doctor to 
hear, " Our friend here has no meaning now in all 
this, except just to relate at club to-morrow how he 
teased Johnson at dinner to-day — this is all to do 
himself honour/* c< No, upon my word," replied the 
other, " I see no honour in it, whatever you may do." 
"Well, Sir!" returned Mr. Johnson sternly, "if you 
do not see the honour, I am sure I feel -he disgrace" 



>c \ 



74 JOHNSU^IANA. 

A young fellow, less confident of his own abilities, 
lamenting one day that he had lost all his Greek, — " I 
believe it happened at the same time, Sir," said John- 
son, ec tha,t I lost all my large estate in Yorkshire." 

The Lincolnshire lady (*) who showed him a grotto 
she had been making, came off no better, as I remember: 
" Would it not be a pretty cool habitation in summer, 
Mr. Johnson ? " said she. iC I think it would, Madam," 
replied he, — ie for a toad." 

98. Compliments, 
When Mr. Johnson had a mind to compliment any one, 
he did it with more dignity to himself, and better effect 
upon the company, than any man. When Sir Joshua 
Reynolds left the room one day, he said, " There goes 
a man not to be spoiled by prosperity." And when 
Mrs. Montagu showed him some China plates which 
had once belonged to Queen Elizabeth, he told her, 
ff that they had no reason to be ashamed of their pre- 
sent possessor, who was so little inferior to the first." 

He was not at all offended when, comparing all our 
acquaintance to some animal or other, we pitched upon 
the elephant for his resemblance, adding that the pro- 
boscis of that creature was like his mind most exactly, 
strong to buffet even the tiger, and pliable to pick up 
even the pin. The truth is, Mr. Johnson was often 
good-hum ouredly willing to join in childish amuse- 
ments, -and hated to be left out of any innocent merri- 
ment that was going forward. Mr. Murphy always 
said, he was incomparable at buffoonery ; and I verily 
think, if he had had good eyes, and a form less inflex- 
ible, he would have made an admirable mimic. 

(1) Mrs. Langton, mother of his friend Malone MS. notes. 

This was not meant as rudeness to the lady ; but Johnson hated, 
grottos, and thought, as he has said in his Life of Pope, that 
they were " not often the wish or pleasure of an Englishman 
who has more frequent need to solicit than to exclude the sun. 



piozzi. 75 

99. Johnson on Horseback. — Hunting. 
He certainly rode on Mr. Thrale's old hunter with a 
good firmness, and though he would follow the hounds 
fifty miles an end sometimes, would never own himself 
either tired or amused. " I have now learned," said 
he, " by hunting, to perceive, that it is no diversion at 
all, nor ever takes a man out of himself for a moment : 
the dogs have less sagacity than I could have prevailed 
on myself to suppose ; and the gentlemen often call to 
me not to ride over them. It is very strange, and very 
melancholy, that the paucity of human pleasures should 
persuade us ever to call hunting one of them." He 
was however proud to be amongst the sportsmen ; and 
I think no praise ever went so close to his heart, as 
when Mr. Hamilton called out one day upon Bright- 
helmstone Downs, " Why, Johnson rides as well, for 
aught I see, as the most illiterate fellow in England." ( ] ) 

100. Conversation. 

Mr. Johnson, as he was a very talking man himself, 
had an idea that nothing promoted happiness so much 
as conversation. A friend's erudition was commended 
one day as equally deep and strong : — ' c He will not 
talk, Sir," was the reply, " so his learning does no 
good, and his wit, if he has it, gives us no pleasure : 
out of all his boasted stores I never heard him force 
but one word, and that word^as-Ilichard" 

With a contempt not inferior he received the praises 
of a pretty lady's face and behaviour : " She says no- 
thing, Sir," answers Johnson ; " a talking blackamoor 
were better than a white creature who adds nothing to 
life, and by sitting down before one thus desperately 

(1) Mr. Boswell says, that Johnson once hunted ; this seems 
more probable than Mrs-. Piozzi's and Hawkins' statements, 
from which it would be inferred, that he hunted habitually. It 
seems hard to figure to one's self Dr. Johnson fairly joining in 
this violent and, to him, one would suppose, extravagant and 
dangerous amusement. — C. 



76 J-JHNSONIANA. 

silent, takes away the confidence one should have in the 
company of her chair if she were once out of it." 

101. Love. — Francis Barber. 

As we had been saying one day that no subject failed 
of receiving dignity from the manner in which Mr. 
Johnson treated it, a lady at my house said she would 
make him talk about love, and took her measures ac- 
cordingly, deriding the novels of the day because they 
treated about love. " It is not," replied our philoso- 
pher, cc because they treat, as you call it, about love, 
but because they treat of nothing, that they are despi- 
cable : we must not ridicule a passion which he who 
never felt never was happy, and he who laughs at never 
deserves to feel — a passion which has caused the change 
of empires, and the loss of worlds — a passion which has 
inspired heroism and subdued avarice." He thought he 
had already said too much. "A passion, in short," 
added he with an altered tone, " that consumes me away 
for my pretty Fanny (') here, and she is very cruel." 

He told us, however, in the course of the same chat, 
how his negro Francis had been eminent for his success 
among the girls. Seeing us all laugh, " I must have 
you know, ladies," said he, " that Frank has carried 
the empire of Cupid further than most men. When I 
was in Lincolnshire so many years ago, he attended me 
thither ; and when we returned home together, I found 
that a female haymaker had followed him to London 
for love." Francis was indeed no small favourite with 
his master ; who retained, however, a prodigious in- 
fluence over his most violent passions. 

On the birthday of our eldest daughter, and that of 
our friend Dr. Johnson, the 17th and 18th of Septem- 
ber, we every year made up a little dance and supper, 
to divert our servants and their friends, putting the 

(1) Miss Burney, the author of " Evelina." 



piozzi. 77 

summer-house into their hands for the two evenings, to 
fill with acquaintance and merriment. Francis and his 
white wife were invited of course. She was eminently 
pretty, and he was jealous, as my maids told me. On 
the first of these days' amusements (I know not what 
year) Frank took offence at some attentions paid his 
Desdemona, and walked away next morning to London 
in wrath. His master and I driving the same road an 
hour after, overtook him. <( What is the matter, child," 
says Dr. Johnson, " that you leave Streatham to-day ? 
Art sick?" Si He is jealous," whispered I. <c Are 
you jealous of your wife, you stupid blockhead ? " cries 
out his master in another tone." The fellow hesitated ; 
and, "To be sure, Sir, I don't quite approve, Sir," was 
the stammering reply. " Why, what do they do to her, 
man ? do the footmen kiss her ? " " No, Sir, no ! — 
Kiss my wife, Sir J — / hope not, Sir" " Why, what 
do they do to her, my lad ?" u Why nothing, Sir, I'm 
sure, Sir." " Why, then, go back directly and dance, 
you dog, do ; and let's hear no more of such empty 
lamentations." I believe, however, that Francis w T as 
scarcely as much the object of Mr. Johnson's personal 
kindness, as the representative of Dr. Bathurst, for 
whose sake he would have loved any body, or any thing. 
When he spoke of negroes, he always appeared to 
think them of a race naturally inferior, and made few 
exceptions in favour of his own ; yet whenever disputes 
arose in his household among the many odd inhabitants 
of which it consisted^ he always sided with Francis 
against the others, whom he suspected (not unjustly, I 
believe) of greater malignity. 

102. Poverty of Sentiment, 

It was never against people of coarse life that his 

contempt was expressed, while poverty of sentiment in 

men who considered themselves to be company for the 

parlour, as he called it, was what he would not bear. 



78 JOHNSONIANA. 

A very ignorant young fellow, who had plagued us all 
for nine or ten months, died at last consumptive : Ci I 
think/' said Mr. Johnson when he heard the news, 
cc I am afraid, I should have been more concerned for 

the death of the dog; but " (hesitating a while) " I 

am not wrong now in all this, for the dog acted up to 
his character on every occasion that we know ; but that 
dunce of a fellow helped forward the general disgrace 
of humanity/' " Why, dear Sir," said I, u how odd 
you are ! you have often said the lad was not capable 
of receiving further instruction/ ' i( He was," replied 
the Doctor, u like a corked bottle, with a drop of dirty 
water in it, to be sure ; one might pump upon it for 
ever without the smallest effect ; but when every 
method to open and clean it had been tried, you would 
not have me grieve that the bottle was broke at last ? " 
This was the same youth who told us he had been 
reading Lucius Florus ; Florus Delphini was the 
phrase ; and (c my mother," said he, " thought it had 
something to do with Delphos; but of that I know 
nothing." " Who founded Rome then ? " inquired Mr. 
Thrale. The lad replied, " Romulus." " And who 
succeeded Romulus ? " said I. A long pause, and ap- 
parently distressful hesitation, followed the difficult 
question. cc Why will you ask him in terms that he 
does not comprehend ? " said Mr. Johnson enraged. 
" You might as well bid him tell you who phlebotomised 
Romulus. This fellow's dulness is elastic," continued 
he, " and all we do is but like kicking at a woolsack." 

103. Public Schools. — Useful Knowledge. 
I remember his saying, " A boy should never be 
sent to Eton or Westminster school before he is twelve 
years old at least ; for if in his years of babyhood he 
'scapes that general and transcendent knowledge without 
which life is perpetually put to a stand, he will never 



piozzi. 79 

get it at a public school, where if he does not learn 
Latin and Greek, he learns nothing." 

Mr. Johnson often said, " that there was too much 
stress laid upon literature as indispensably necessary : 
there is surely no need that every body should be a 
scholar, no call that every one should square the circle. 
Otff manner of teaching," said he, <c cramps and warps 
many a rnind, which if left more at liberty would have 
been respectable in some way, though perhaps not in 
that. We lop our trees, and prune them, and pinch 
them about," he would say, " and nail thern tight up 
to the wall, while a good standard is at last the only 
thing for bearing healthy fruit, though it commonly 
begins later. Let the people learn necessary knowledge ; 
let them learn to cou nt their fingers, and to count their 
money, before they are caring for the_ classics ; for," 
says Mr. Johnson, iC though r^dcTnot quite agree with 
the proverb, that Nullum numen abest si sit prudent ia, 
yet we may very well say, that Nullum numen adest 
— ni sit prudentia" 

104. Ignorance. 
We had been visiting at a lady's house, whom as we 
returned some of the company ridiculed for her igno- 
ranee : u She is not ignorant," said he, " I believe, of 21 
any thing she has been taught, or of any thing she is 
desirous to know; and I suppose if one wanted a little 
run tea, she might be a proper person enough to 
apply to." 

105. Johnson s Pride and Severity. 
When I relate these various instances of contemptuous 
behaviour shown to a variety of people, I am aware 
that those who till now have heard little of Mr. Johnson 
will here cry out against his pride and his severity ; yet 
I have been as careful as I could to tell them, that all 
he did was gentle, if all he said was rough. Had I 



80 JOHNSONIANA. 

given anecdotes of his actions instead of his words, we 
should, I am sure, have had nothing on record but acts 
of virtue differently modified, as different occasions 
called that virtue forth : and among all the nine biogra- 
phical essays or performances which I have heard will 
at last be written about dear Dr. Johnson, no mean or 
wretched, no wicked or even slightly culpable, action 
will, I trust, be found, to produce and put in the scale 
against a life of seventy years, spent in the uniform 
practice of every moral excellence and every Christian 
perfection, save humility alone, says a critic; but that, I 
think, must be excepted. He was not, however, want- 
ing even in that to a degree seldom attained by man, 
when the duties of piety or charity called it forth. 

Lowly towards God, and docile towards the church ; 
implicit in his belief of the gospel, and ever respectful 
towards the people appointed to preach it ; tender of 
the unhappy, and affectionate to the poor, let no one 
hastily condemn as proud, a character which may 
perhaps somewhat justly be censured as arrogant. It 
must however be remembered again, that even this 
arrogance was never shown without some intention, 
immediate or remote, of mending some fault or convey- 
ing some instruction. Had I meant to make a panegyric 
on Mr. Johnson's well-known excellencies, I should 
have told his deeds only, not his words — sincerely pro- 
testing, that as I never saw him once do a wrong thing, 
so we had accustomed ourselves to look upon him almost 
as an excepted being ; and I should as much have ex- 
pected injustice from Socrates, or impiety from Pascal, 
as the slightest deviation from truth and goodness in 
any transaction one might be engaged in with Samuel 
Johnson. 

106. Veracity. — Clarissa. — Amelia. 
His attention to veracity was without equal or ex- 
ample : and when I mentioned Clarissa as a perfect 



piozzi. 81 

character ; " On the contrary," said he, " you may ob- 
serve there is always something which she prefers to 
truth. Fielding's Amelia was the most pleasing heroine 
of all the romances/' he said ; " but that vile broken 
nose, never cured, ruined the sale of perhaps the only 
book, which, being printed off betimes one morning, a 
new edition was called for before night, " 

107. Lucy Porter. — Contradiction. 
His wife's daughter, Mrs. Lucy Porter of Litchfield, 
whose veneration for his person and character has ever 
been the greatest possible, being opposed one day in 
conversation by a clergyman who came often to her 
house, and feeling somewhat offended, cried out sud- 
denly, ec Why, Mr. Pearson," said she, " you are just 
like Dr. Johnson, I think : I do not mean that you are 
a man of the greatest capacity in all the world like 
Dr. Johnson, but that you contradict one every word 
one speaks, just like him/' Mr. Johnson told me the 
story : he was present at the giving of the reproof. It 
was, however, observable that with all his odd severity, 
he could not keep even indifferent people from teasing 
him with unaccountable confessions of silly conduct, 
which one would think they would scarcely have had 
inclination to reveal even to their tenderest and most 
intimate companions ; and it was from these unaccount- 
able volunteers in sincerity, that he learned to warn the 
world against follies little known, and seldom thought 
on by other moralists. 

108. Vows. 
Much of his eloquence, and much of his logic, have 
I heard him use to prevent men from making vows on 
trivial occasion ; and when he saw a person oddly per- 
plexed about a slight difficulty, " Let the man. alone," 
he would say, " and torment him no more about it : 
there is a vow in the case, I am convinced ; but is it 

VOL. IX. g 



82 JOHNSONIANA. 

not very strange, that people should be neither afraid 
nor ashamed of bringing in God Almighty thus at 
every turn between themselves and their dinner?" 
When I asked what ground he had for such imagin- 
ations, he informed me, that " a young lady once told 
him in confidence, that she could never persuade her- 
self to be dressed against the bell rung for dinner, till 
she had made a vow to Heaven, that she would never 
more be absent from the family meals." 

109- Scruples of Conscience. 

The strangest applications in the world were certainly 
made from time to time towards Mr. Johnson ; who 
by that means had an inexhaustible fund of anecdote, 
and could, if he pleased, tell the most astonishing 
stories of human folly and human weakness, that ever 
were confided to any man not a confessor by pro- 
fession. 

One day when he was in a humour to record some 
of them, he told us the following tale : cc A person," 
said he, <e had for these last five weeks often called at 
my door, but would not leave his name, or other 
message ; but that he wished to speak with me. At 
last we met, and he told me that he was oppressed by 
scruples of conscience. I blamed him gently for not 
applying, as the rules of our church direct, to his 
parish priest or other discreet clergyman ; when, after 
some compliments on his part, he told me/that he was 
clerk to a very eminent trader, at whose warehouses 
much business consisted in packing goods in order to 
go abroad : that he was often tempted to take paper 
and packthread enough for his own use, and that he 
had indeed done so so often, that he could recollect no 
time when he ever had bought any for himself. e But 
probably/ said I, ' your master was wholly indif- 
ferent with regard to such trivial emoluments ; you had 
better ask for it at once, and so take your trifles with 



piozzi. 33 

consent.' ' Oh, Sir ! ' replies the visitor, c my master 
bid me have as much as I pleased, and was half angry 
when I talked to him about it.' e Then pray, Sir/ 
said I, ' tease me no more about such airy nothings ;' 
— and was going on to be very angry, when I recol- 
lected that the fellow might be mad perhaps : so I 
asked him when he left the counting-house of an even- 
ing?' e At seven o'clock, Sir/ ' And when do you 
go to-bed, Sir ? ' ( At twelve o'clock/ e Then/ re- 
plied I, ( I have at least learned thus much by my 
new acquaintance ; — that five hours of the four-and- 
twenty unemployed are enough for a man to go mad 
in ; so I would advise you, Sir, to study algebra, if you 
are not an adept already in it : your head would get 
less muddy, and you will leave off tormenting your 
neighbours about paper and packthread, while we all live 
together in a world that is bursting with sin and sorrow. 
It is perhaps needless to add, that this visitor came no 
more/' 

110. Luck with Pupils. 

He had not much luck with two boys that he used 
to tell of, to whom he had taught the classics, " so 
that," he said, e( they were no incompetent or mean 
scholars : " it was necessary, however, that something 
more familiar should be known, and he bid them read 
the History of England. After a few months had 
elapsed, he asked them "if they could recollect who 
first destroyed the monasteries in our island ? " One 
modestly replied, that he did not know ; the other said, 
Jesus Christ. 

111. "Burke in a Bag/' 

An Irish trader at our house one day heard Dr. 

Johnson launch out into very great and greatly deserved 

praises of Mr. Edmund Burke : delighted to find his 

countryman stood so high in the opinion of a man he 

g 2 



84 JOHNSONIANA. 

had been told so much of, " Sir/' said he, " give me 
leave to tell something of Mr. Burke now." We were 
all silent, and the honest Hibernian began to relate how 
Mr. Burke went to see the collieries in a distant pro- 
vince ; and " he would go down into the bowels of the 
earth in a bag, and he would examine every thing : he 
went in a bag, Sir, and ventured his health and his life 
for knowledge ; but he took care of his clothes, that 
they should not be spoiled, for he went down in a bag." 
ec Well, Sir," says Mr- Johnson good-hum ouredly, " if 
our friend Mund should die in any of these hazardous 
exploits, you and I would write his life and panegyric 
together; and your chapter of it should be entitled 
thus : ' Burke in a Bag.'" 

He had always a very great personal regard and par- 
ticular affection for Mr. Edmund Burke, as well as an 
esteem difficult for me to repeat, though for him only 
easy to express. And when, at the end of the year 
1774, the general election called us all different ways, 
and broke up the delightful society in which we had 
spent some time at Beaconsfield, Dr. Johnson shook the 
hospitable master of the house kindly by the hand, and 
said, " Farewell, my dear Sir, and remember that I wish 
you all the success which ought to be wished you, 
which can possibly be wished you indeed — by an honest 
many 

112. Sorrows of Vanity. 

When I have told how many follies Dr. Johnson 
knew of others, I must not omit to mention with how 
much fidelity he would always have kept them con- 
cealed, could they of whom he knew the absurdities 
have been contented, in the common phrase, to keep 
their own counsel. But, returning home one day from 
dining at the chaplain's table, he told me, that Dr. 
Goldsmith had given a very comical and unnecessarily 
exact recital there, of his own feelings when his play 



piozzr. 85 

was hissed ; telling the company how he went indeed 
\o the Literary Club at night, and chatted gaily among 
his friends, as if nothing had happened amiss ; that to 
impress them still more forcibly with an idea of his 
magnanimity, he even sang his favourite song about an 
old woman tossed in a blanket seventeen times as high 
as the moon : " but all this while I was suffering horrid 
tortures/' said he, "■ and verily believe that if I had 
put a bit into my mouth it would have strangled me on 
the spot, I was so excessively ill ; but I made more 
noise than usual to cover all that, and so they never 
perceived my not eating, nor I believe at all imaged to 
themselves the anguish of my heart : but when all w r ere 
gone except Johnson here, I burst out a crying, and 
even swore that I would never write again. ee All 
which, Doctor," says Mr. Johnson, amazed at his odd 
frankness, " I thought had been a secret between you 
and me ; and I am sure I would not have said any thing 
about it for the world." "Now see," repeated he, 
when he told the story, " what a figure a man makes 
who thus unaccountably chooses to be the frigid nar- 
rator of his own disgrace. II volto sciolto, ed i pensieri 
stretti, w r as a proverb made on purpose for such mortals, 
to keep people, if possible, from being thus the heralds 
of their own shame : for w T hat compassion can they gain 
by such silly narratives ? No man should be expected 
to sympathise with the sorrows of vanity. If, then, 
you are mortified by any ill usage, whether real or sup- 
posed, keep at least the account of such mortifications 
to yourself, and forbear to proclaim how meanly you are 
thought on by others, unless you desire to be meanly 
thought of by "all." 

113. Superfluous Ingenuity. — Nicknames 
The little history of another friend's superfluous in- 
genuity will contribute to introduce a similar remark. 
He had a daughter of about fourteen years old, as I re- 
g 3 



86 JOHNSONIANA. 

member, fat and clumsy : and though the father adored, 
and desired others to adore her,' yet being aware per- 
haps that she was not what the French call petrie des 
graces, and thinking, I suppose, that the old maxim, of 
beginning to laugh at yourself first where you have any 
thing ridiculous about you, was a good one, he comically 
enough called his girl Trundle when he spoke of her ; 
and many who bore neither of them any ill-will felt 
disposed to laugh at the happiness of the appellation. 
" See now," says Dr. Johnson, ee what haste people are 
in to be hooted. Nobody ever thought of this fellow 
nor of his daughter, could he but have been quiet him- 
self, and forborne to call the eyes of the world on his 
dowdy and her deformity. But it teaches one to see at 
least, that if nobody else will nickname one's children, 
the parents wiH e'en do it themselves." 

114. "Blinking Sam. 9 
All this held true in matters to Mr. Johnson of more 
serious consequence. When Sir Joshua Reynolds had 
painted his portrait looking into the slit of his pen, and 
holding it almost close to his eye, as was his general 
custom, he felt displeased, and told me, c ' he would not 
be known by posterity for his defects only, let Si* 
Joshua do his worst." I said, in reply, that Reynolds 
had no such difficulties about himself, and that he 
might observe the picture which hung up in the room 
where we were talking, represented Sir Joshua holding 
his ear in his hand to catch the sound. " He may 
paint himself as deaf if he chooses," replied Johnson ; 
' f but I will not be blinking Sam" 

115. Shakspeare. 
It is chiefly for the sake of evincing the regularity 
and steadiness of Mr. Johnson's mind that I have given 
these trifling memoirs, to show that his soul was not 
different from that of another person, but, as it was, 
greater ; and to give those who did not know him a just 



piozzi. 37 

idea of his acquiescence in what we call vulgar pre- 
judices, and of his extreme distance from those notions 
which the world has agreed, I know not very well why, 
to call romantic. It is, indeed, observable in his pre- 
face to Shakspeare, that while other critics expatiate on 
the creative powers and vivid imagination of that 
matchless poet, Dr. Johnson commends him for giving 
so just a representation of human manners, " that from 
his scenes a hermit might estimate the value of society, 
and a confessor predict the progress of the passions." 

116. Choice of a Wife. 
The general and constant advice he gave, too, when 
consulted about the choice of a wife, a profession, or 
whatever influences a man's particular and immediate 
happiness, was always to reject no positive good from 
fears of its contrary consequences. " Do not," said he, 
iC forbear to marry a beautiful woman if you can find 
such, out of a fancy that she will be less constant than 
an ugly one ; or condemn yourself to the society of 
coarseness and vulgarity for fear of the expenses, or 
other dangers, of elegance and personal charms ; which 
have been always acknowledged as a positive good, and 
for the want of which there should be always given 
some weighty compensation. I have, however,'' con- 
tinued Mr. Johnson, " seen some prudent fellows who 
forbore to connect themselves with beauty lest coquetry 
should be near, and with wit or birth lest insolence 
should lurk behind them, till they have been forced by 
their discretion to linger life away in tasteless stupidity, 
and choose to count the moments by remembrance of 
pain instead of enjoyment of pleasure." 

117. Professions. — Roger Ascham. 

When professions were talked of, " Scorn," said Mr. 

Johnson, " to put your behaviour under the dominion 

of canters : never think it clever to call physic a mean 

q 4 



88 JOHNSONIANA. 

study, or law a dry one ; or ask a baby of seven yeais 
old which way his genius leads him, when we all know 
that a boy of seven years old has no genius for any 
thing except a peg-top and an apple-pye ; but fix on 
some business where much money may be got and little 
virtue risked : follow that business steadily, and do not 
live as Roger Asoham says the wits do, e men know 
not how; and at last die obscurely, men mark not 
where. 3 " 

118. Opinion of the World. 
Dr. Johnson had a veneration for the voice of man- 
kind beyond what most people will own ; and as he 
liberally confessed that all his own disappointments pro- 
ceeded from himself, he hated to hear others complain 
of general injustice. I remember when lamentation 
was made of the neglect showed to Jeremiah Markland, 
a great philologist, as some one ventured to call him : — 
" He is a scholar undoubtedly, Sir," replied Dr. John- 
son ; " but remember that he would run from the world, 
and that it is not the world's business to run after him. 
I hate a fellow whom pride, or cowardice, or laziness 
drives into a corner, and does nothing when he is there 
but sit and growl; let him come out as I do, and bark .'" '( ) 

(1) Mr. Markland, who has favoured me with many kind and 
useful suggestions, observes on this passage, that " Johnson's 
censure was undeserved. Jeremiah Markland was certainly no 
growler. He sought for, because he loved, retirement ; and re* 
jected all the honours and rewards which were liberally offered 
to his acceptance. During a long life, he devoted himself Uxi- 
ceasingly to those pursuits for which he was best fitted, collating 
the classics, and illustrating the Scriptures. ' Sequantur alii 
famam, aucupentur divitias, hie ilia oculis irretortis contem- 
platus, post terga constanter rejecit .... In solitudinem se re- 
cepit, studiis excolendis et pauperibus sublevandis unice intentus.* 
Such is the character given of Markland by his pupil and friend 
Edward Clarke." Mrs. Piozzi's flippant expression ("a great 
philologist, as some one ventured to call him") will excite a 
smile, when we recollect what Markland has done as a philolo- 
gist, and the estimation in which he has been held both by the 
most learned of his contemporaries (including Johnson himself), 
and the most distinguished scholars of our own time. Dr. Bur- 



piozzi. 89 

119. Retirement from the World. 
The world, added he, is chiefly unjust and unge- 
nerous in this, that all are ready to encourage a man 
who once talks of leaving it, and few things do really 
provoke me more, than to hear people prate of retire- 
ment, when they have neither skill to discern their own 
motives, nor penetration to estimate the consequences; 
but while a fellow is active to gain either power or 
wealth," continued he, " every body produces some hin- 
derance to his advancement, some sage remark, or some 
unfavourable prediction ; but let him once say slightly, 
I have had enough of this troublesome bustling world, 
'tis time to leave it now : c Ah, dear Sir ! cries the first 
old acquaintance he meets, I am glad to find you in 
this happy disposition : yes, dear friend ! do retire, and 
think of nothing but your own ease : there 's Mr. Wil- 
liam will find it a pleasure to settle all your accounts, 
and relieve you from the fatigue ; Miss Dolly makes 
the charmingest chicken broth in the world, and the 
cheesecakes we eat of hers once, how good they were : 
I will be coming every two or three days myself to chat 
with you in a quiet way ; so snug ! and tell you how 

ney, in a tone of the highest panegyric, numbered nim with 
Bentley, Dawes, Toup, and Porson ; and a still later writer has 
thus candidly enumerated his merits : " Markland was endowed 
with a respectable portion of judgment and sagacity. He was 
very laborious, loved retirement, and spent a long life in the 
study of the Greek and Latin languages. For modesty, can- 
dour, literary honesty, and courteousness to other scholars, he 
is justly considered as the mode which ought to be proposed for 
the imitation of every critic." — Quart. Rev. vol. vii. p. 442. : 
so far Mr. Mnrkland. It is but just to all parties, that I 
should add, that (whatever Johnson may have said in the cur- 
rent of conversation, and probably in allusion to some minute 
and unrecorded circumstance) he had a fixed respect for the 
talents and character of Markland. For it will be seen, that 
on the 20th October, 1782, he wrote to Mr. Nichols, urging 
him to obtain some record of the Life of Markland, who, with 
Jortin and Thirlby, he calls three contemporaries of great emi- 
nence. — C. 



90 JOHNSONIANA. 

matters go upon 'Change, or in the House, or, according 
to the blockhead's first pursuits, whether lucrative or 
politic, which thus he leaves ; and lays himself down a 
voluntary prey to his own sensuality and sloth, while 
the ambition and avarice of the nephews and nieces,, 
with their rascally adherents and coadjutors, reap the 
advantage, while they fatten their fool/' 

120. Marrying for Money. 
As the votaries of retirement had little of Mr. John- 
son's applause, unless he knew that the motives were 
merely devotional, and unless he was convinced that 
their rituals were accompanied by a mortified state of 
the body, the sole proof of their sincerity which he 
would admit, as a compensation for such fatigue as a 
worldly life of care and activity requires ; so of the vari- 
ous states and conditions of humanity, he despised none 
more, I think, than the man who marries for a main- 
tenance : and of a friend who made his alliance on no 
higher principles, he said once, (C Now has that fellow" 
(it was a nobleman of whom we were speaking) e ' at 
length obtained a certainty of three meals a day, and for 
that certainty, like his brother dog in the fable, he will 
get his neck galled for life with a collar." 

121. Poverty. 
That poverty was an evil to be avoided by all honest 
means however, no man was more ready to avow : 
concealed poverty particularly, which he said was the 
general corrosive that destroyed the peace of almost 
every family ; to which no evening perhaps ever re- 
turned without some new project for hiding the sorrows 

\ and dangers of the next day. ec Want of money," says 
Dr. Johnson, ec is sometimes concealed under pretended 

*¥ avarice, and sly hints of aversion to part with it ; some- 
times under stormy anger, and affectation of boundless 
rage ; but oftener still under a show of thoughtless ex- 



piozzi. 91 

travagance and gay neglect ; while, to a penetrating 
eye, none of these wretched veils suffice to keep the 
cruel truth from being seen. Poverty is hie et ubique," 
says he ; " and if you do shut the jade out of the door, 
she will always contrive, in some manner, to poke her 
pale lean face in at the window." 

122. Old Age. — Dogs. 

I have mentioned before, that old age had very little 
of Mr. Johnson's reverence : " a man commonly grew 
wickeder as he grew older," he said, " at least he but 
changed^the vices of youth ; headstrong passion and 
wild temerity, for treacherous caution and desire to 
circumvent. I am always," said he, " on the young 
people's side, when there is a dispute between them and 
the old ones : for you have at least a chance for virtue 
till age has withered its very root." 

While we were talking, my mother's spaniel, whom he 
never loved, stole our toast and butter; " Fie, Belle !"said 
I, " you used to be upon honour/' " Yes, Madam," re- 
plies Johnson, :c but Belle grows old." His reason for 
hating the dog was, f< because she was a professed 
favourite," he said, " and because her lady ordered her 
from time to time to be washed and combed : a foolish 
trick," said he, " and an assumption of superiority that 
every one's nattlre revolts at ; so because one must not 
wish ill to the lady in such cases/' continued he, "one 
curses the cur." The truth is, Belle was not well 
behaved, and being a large spaniel, was toublesome 
enough at dinner with frequent solicitations to be fed. 
ic This animal," said Dr. Johnson one day, (i would 
have been of extraordinary merit and value in the state 
of Lycurgus ; for she condemns one to the exertion of 
perpetual vigilance." 

123. Cats. — Hodges Oysters. 
He had that strong aversion felt by all the lower 
ranks of people towards four-footed companions very 



92 JOHNSONIANA. 

completely, notwithstanding he had, for many years, a 
cat which he called Hodge, that kept always in his 
room at Fleet Street ; hut so exact was he not to offend 
the human species by superfluous attention to brutes, 
that when the creature was grown sick and old, and 
could eat nothing but oysters, Mr. Johnson always went 
out himself to buy Hodge's dinner, that Francis the 
black's delicacy might not be hurt, at seeing himself 
employed for the convenience of a quadruped. 

124. Mr. Cholmondeley. 
No one was so attentive not to offend in all such sort 
of things as Dr. Johnson; nor so careful to maintain the 
ceremonies of life : and though he told Mr. Thrale once, 
that he had never sought to please till past thirty years 
old, considering the matter as hopeless, he had been 
always studious not to make enemies, by apparent prefer- 
ence of himself. It happened very comically, that the 
moment this curious conversation past, of which I was 
a silent audi tress, was in the coach, in some distant 
province, either Shropshire or Derbyshire I believe ; 
and as soon as it was over, Mr. Johnson took out of his 
pocket a little book and read, while a gentleman of no 
small distinction for his birth and elegance suddenly 
rode up to the carriage, and paying us all his proper 
compliments, was desirous not to neglect Dr. Johnson ; 
but observing that he did not see him, tapped him gently 
on the shoulder. <c 'T is Mr. Cholmondeley," says my 
husband. ' < Well, Sir ! and what if it is Mr. Chol- 
mondeley ? " says the other sternly, just lifting his eyes 
a moment from his book, and returning to it again witt 
renewed avidity. ( J ) 

(1) For BoswelTs strictures on this passage, see ante, 
Vol. Vlli. p. 347. I subjoin Mr. Cholmondeley's own ac- 
count of the circumstance, which however only confirms Mrs. 
Piozzi's statement: — " In the year 1774 I was making a tour 
of Derbyshire in a gig with Windham. Just as we came to the 
point of the hill going down into Matlock, we saw Mr. Thraies 



piozzi. 93 

125. t€ In Vino Veritas." 
It was unlucky for those who delighted to echo John- 
son's sentiments, that he would not endure from them 
to-day, what perhaps he had yesterday, by his own 
manner of treating the subject, made them fond of re- 
peating ; and I fancy Mr. Boswell has not forgotten, 
that though his friend one evening in a gay humour 



carriage and four, in which were Dr. Johnson, Mr. and Mrs. 
Thrale : the horses were breathing after ascending the hill : we 
had heard they were in those parts ; of course this rencontre 
excited some interest. I, with all the conceit of a young man, 
saying, ' I know Dr. Johnson very well, I '11 manage it all ; * 
tripped very pertly from the gig to the carriage, shook hands 
with Mr. and Mrs. Thrale, who were very glad to see me as 
people are glad in a commonplace way. Dr. Johnson took not 
the smallest notice ; on which Mr. Thrale said, ' Dr. Johnson, 
here is Mr. Cholmondeley.' Dr. Johnson neither spoke nor 
moved. He repeated, ' Dr. Johnson, here is Mr. Cholmon- 
deley.' Dr. Johnson was equally silent. Mr. Thrale repeated 
it a third time ; when Dr. Johnson answered, * Well, Sir !' and 
what if there is Mr. Cholmondeley?' I, of course, tripped 
back again, much entertained at the humorous way in which my 
conceit had been put down. I imagine Mrs. Thrale must, in 
some dispute, have reproached him with this, as an instance of 
unprovoked brutality towards an unoffending person. Four 
years afterwards, I went to dine at Mr. Thrale's, at Brighton. 
The house was small ; the passage running close by the room 
into the street. I arrived before Dr. Johnson was dressed. 
When he entered the room, he said, * George, I want to speak 
to you.' He led me from the passage into the street; then 
said, * George, I owe you reparation for an injury which I do 
not recollect. I am told that, some years ago, I met you on 
the point of Matlock Hill, and spoke to you with unjustifiable 
insolence ; whether I was thinking of something else, or whe- 
ther I had been quarrelling with Thrale, I know not ; but I 
ought not so to have insulted an innocent unoffending young 
man ; and I beg your pardon.* I told this to Mrs. Thrale, with 
all the animation such a beautiful trait was calculated to inspire; 
and after she published her garbled account of it, I called upon 
her, reminded her of this circumstance, pointed out to her how 
characteristic an anecdote it was, of a man whose temper was 
harsh, but whose principles were charitable in the extreme, and 
who was, consequently, always in a state of repentance for ima- 
ginary injuries : I enjoined her, by the love of truth and justice, 
to publish another edition of it, which she never did." — C. 



94 JOHNSONIANA. 

talked in praise of wine, as one of the blessings 
permitted by Heaven when used with moderation, to 
enlighten She load of life, and give men strength to endure 
it ; yet, when in consequence of such talk he thought 
fit to make a Bacchanalian discourse in its favour, Mr. 
Johnson contradicted him somewhat roughly, as I re- 
member ; and when, to assure himself of conquest, he 
added these words, " You must allow me, Sir, at least 
that it produces truth ; in vino veritas } you know, Sir." 
" That/' replied Mr. Johnson, " would be useless to a 
man who knew he was not a liar when he was sober." 

1 26. Ossian. — Macpherson. 
When one talks of giving and taking the he familiarly, 
it is impossible to forbear recollecting the transactions 
between the editor of Ossian and the author of the 
Journey to the Hebrides. It was most observable to 
me, however, that Mr. Johnson never bore his antagonist 
the slightest degree of ill-will. He always kept those 
quarrels which belonged to him as a writer, separate 
from those which he had to do with as a man ; but I 
never did hear him say in private one malicious word 
of a public enemy ; and of Mr. Macpherson I once 
heard him speak respectfully^ though his reply to the 
friend who asked him if any man living could have 
written such a book is well known, and has been often 
repeated : " Yes, Sir ; many men, many women, and 
many children.' , I inquired of him myself if this story 
was authentic, and he said it was. I made the same 
inquiry concerning his account of the state of literature 
in Scotland, which was repeated up and down at one 
time by every body, — " How knowledge is divided 
among the Scots, like bread in a besieged town, to every 
man a mouthful, to no man a bellyful." This story he 
likewise acknowledged, and said besides, that ei some 
officious friend had carried it to Lord Bute, who only 



piozzi. 95 

answered,, ' Well, well ! never mind what he says — 
he will have the pension all one/ " 

127. Prospects* — Glasgow and Brentford. — View on 
the St. Lawrence. 

Another famous reply to a Scotsman who commended 
the beauty and dignity of Glasgow, till Mr. Johnson 
stopped him by observing, that "he probably had 
never yet seen Brentford," was one of the jokes he 
owned : and said himself, that (e when a gentleman of 
that country once mentioned the lovely prospects com- 
mon in his nation, he could not help telling him, that the 
view of the London road was the prospect in which every 
Scotsman most naturally and most rationally delighted/* 
Mrs. Brook received an answer not unlike this, when 
expatiating on the accumulation of sublime and beautiful 
objects, which form the fine prospect up the river St. 
Lawrence in North America : — " Come, Madam/' says 
Dr. Johnson, " confess that nothing ever equalled your 
pleasure in seeing that sight reversed ; and finding 
yourself looking at the happy propect down the river 
St. Lawrence/' 

128. Gardening. — Country Life. 
The truth is, he hated to hear about prospects and 
views, and laying out ground and taste in gardening : 
{C That was the best garden," he said, <( which produced 
most roots and fruits ; and that water was most to be 
prized which contained most fish." He used to laugh 
at Shenstone most unmercifully for not caring whether 
there was any thing good to eat in the streams he was 
so fond of ; " as if," says Johnson, u one could fill one's 
belly with hearing soft murmurs, or looking at rough cas- 
cades ! " He loved the sight of fine forest trees however, 
and detested Brighthelmstone Downs, C( because it was 
a country so truly desolate," he said, " that if one had a 
mind to hang one's self for desperation at being obliged 



96 JOHNSONIANA. 

to live there, it would be difficult to find a tree on 
which to fasten the rope/' Walking in a wood when it 
rained, was, I think, the only rural image he pleased 
his fancy with ; " for," says he, c ' after one has gathered 
the appks in an orchard, one wishes them well baked, 
and removed to a London eating-house for enjoy- 
ment." ( J ) 

With such notions, who can wonder he passed his 
time uncomfortably enough with us, whom he often 
complained of for living so much in the country ; (( feed- 
ing the chickens," as he said I did, " till I starved my 
own understanding. Get, however," said he, " a book 
about gardening, and study it hard, since you will pass 
your life with birds and flowers, and learn to raise the 
largest turnips, and to breed the biggest fowls." It was 
vain to assure him that the goodness of such dishes did 
not depend upon their size ; he laughed at the people 
who covered their canals with foreign fowls, " when," 
says he, " our own geese and ganders are twice as large : 
if we fetched better animals from distant nations, there 
might be some sense in the preference ; but to get cows 
from Alderney, or water-fowl from China, only to see 
nature degenerating round one, is a poor ambition in- 
deed." 

29' Amusements. 
Nor was Mr. Johnson more merciful with regard to 
the amusements people are contented to call such : " You 
hunt in the morning," says he, " and crowd to the 
public rooms at night, and call it diversion ; when your 
heart knows it is perishing with poverty of pleasures, 
and your wits get blunted for want of some other mind 
""> to sharpen them upon. There is in this world no real 
delight (excepting those of sensuality), but exchange of 
ideas in conversation ; and whoever has once expe- 

(1) [This reminds one of Caraccioli's remark, that " the only 
fruit in England that ripened in the open air were apples, for 
they were roasted." — Fonnereau.] 



piozzi. 97 

rienced the full flow of London talk, when he retires to 
country friendships and rural sports, must either be 
contented to turn baby again and play with the rattle, 
or he will pine away like a great fish in a little pond, 
and die for want of his usual food." 

ISO. Knowledge of Life. 
" Books without the knowledge of life are useless," 
I have heard him say ; "for what should books teach 
but the art^ of^Jivinq ? To study manners however 
only in coffee-houses, is more than equally imperfect : 
the minds of men who acquire no solid learning, and 
only exist on the daily forage that they pick up by 
running about, and snatching what drops from their 
neighbours as ignorant as themselves, will never ferment 
into any knowledge valuable or durable ; but like the 
light wines we drink in hot countries, please for the 
moment though incapable of keeping. In the study of 
mankind much will be found to swim as froth, and 
much must sink as feculence, before the wine can have 
its effect, and become that noblest liquor which rejoices 
the heart, and gives vigour to the imagination." 

131. Disguise. 
Fear of what others may think, is the great cause of 
affectation ; and he was not likely to disguise his no- 
tions out of cowardice. He hated disguise, and nobody 
penetrated it so readily. I showed him a letter written 
to a common friend, who was at some loss for the 
explanation of it : " Whoever wrote it," says our 
Doctor, " could, if he chose it, make himself under- 
stood ; but 'tis the letter of an embarrassed man, Sir ; " 
and so the event proved it to be. 

132. Mysteriousness. 
Mysteriousness in trifles offended him on every 
side : (< it commonly ended in guilt/' he said ; " for 

VOL. IX. h 



98 JOHNSONIANA. 

those who begin by concealment of innocent things,, 
will soon have something to hide which they dare not 
bring to light." He therefore encouraged an openness 
of conduct, in women particularly, " who/' he ob- 
served, (i were often led away when children, by their 
delight and power of surprising/' 

133. Superfluous Cunning. — Conferring Favours. 

He recommended, on something like the same prin- 
ciple, that when one person meant to serve another, he 
should not go about it slily, or, as we say, underhand, 
out of a false idea of delicacy, to surprise one's friend 
with an unexpected favour ; " which, ten to one," says 
he, iC fails to oblige your acquaintance, who had some 
reasons against such a mode of obligation, which you 
might have known but for that superfluous cunning 
which you think an elegance. 

" Oh ! never be seduced by such silly pretences," 
continued he ; cc if a wench wants a good gown, do 
not give her a fine smelling-bottle, because that is more 
delicate : as I once knew a lady lend the key of her 
library to a poor scribbling dependant, as if she took 
the woman for an ostrich that could digest iron." He 
said, indeed, that " women were very difficult to be 
taught the proper manner of conferring pecuniary 
favours : that they always gave too much money or too 
little ; for that they had an idea of delicacy accom 
panying their gifts, so that they generally rendered 
them either useless or ridiculous." 

134. General Sarcasms. 
He did indeed say very contemptuous things of our 
sex ; but was exceedingly angry when I told Miss 
Reynolds that he said, " It was well managed of some 
one to leave his affairs in the hands of his wife, because, 
in matters of business," said he, " no woman stops at 
integrity." This was, I think, the only sentence I 



piozzi. 99 

ever observed him solicitous to explain away after he 
had uttered it. 

He was not at all displeased at the recollection of a 
sarcasm thrown on a whole profession at once ; when a 
gentleman leaving the company, somebody who sat 
next Dr. Johnson asked him, who he was ? " I can- 
not exactly tell you, Sir/' replied he, " and I would be 
loath to speak ill of any person who I do not know de- 
serves it, but I am afraid he is an attorney. ." He did 
not however encourage general satire, and for the most 
part professed himself to feel directly contrary to Dr. 
Swift ; " who," says he, " hates the world, though he 
loves John and Robert, and certain individuals/' John- 
son said always, that iC the world was well constructed, 
but that the particular people disgraced the elegance 
and beauty of the general fabric/ ' 

135. Needle-work. 
Needle- work had a strenuous approver in Dr. John- 
son, who said, that cf one of the great felicities of female 
life, was the general consent of the world, that they 
might amuse themselves with petty occupations, which 
contributed to the lengthening their lives, and preserving 
their minds in a state of sanity/' " A man cannot 
hem a pocket-handkerchief," said a lady of quality to 
him one day, " and so he runs mad, and torments his 
family and friends/' The expression struck him ex- 
ceedingly ; and when one acquaintance grew trouble- 
some, and another unhealthy, he used to quote Lady 
Frances's (*) observation, that " a man cannot hem 
a pocket-handkerchief/' 

136. « Nice People." 
The nice people found no mercy from Mr. Johnson ; 
such I mean as can dine only at four o'clock, who can- 

(1) Lady Frances Burgoyne, daughter of the last Lord Ha- 
lifax. — C. 

h 2 

tOfC. 



100 JOHNSONIANA. 

not bear to be waked at an unusual hour, or miss a 
stated meal without inconvenience. He had no such 
prejudices himself, and with difficulty forgave them in 
another. " Delicacy does not surely consist," says he, 
€C in impossibility to be pleasedj and that is false 
dignity indeed which is content to depend upon others." 

137. Conversation. 
The saying of the old philosopher, who observes, 
that <( he who wants least is most like the gods, who 
want nothing/' was a favourite sentence with Dr. 
Johnson; who on his own part required less attendance, 
sick or well, than ever I saw any human creature. Con- 
versation was all he required to make him happy ; and 
when he would have tea made at two o'clock in the 
morning, it was only that there might be a certainty of 
detaining his companions round him. On that princi- 
ple it was that he preferred winter to summer, when the 
heat of the weather gave people an excuse to stroll 
about, and walk for pleasure in the shade, while he 
wished to sit still on a chair, and chat day after day, 
till somebody proposed a drive in the coach ; and that 
was the most delicious moment of his life. ec But the 
carriage must stop sometime, " as he said, cc and the 
people would come home at last ; " so his pleasure was 
of short duration. 

138. Love of a Coach. 
1 asked him why he doated on a coach so ? and re- 
ceived for answer, that " in the first place, the com- 
pany was shut in with him there ; and could not escape, 
as out of a room : in the next place, he heard all that 
was said in a carriage, where it was my turn to be 
deaf : " and very impatient was he at my occasional 
difficulty of hearing. On this account he wished to 
travel all over the world ; for the very act of going for- 
ward was delightful to him, and he gave himself no 



piozzi. 10] 

concern about accidents, which he said never happened : 
nor did the running away of the horses on the edge of 
a precipice between Vernon and St. Denys in France 
convince him to the contrary ; e< for nothing came of 
it/' he said, iC except that Mr. Thrale leaped out of the 
carriage into a chalk-pit, and then came up again, look- 
ing as white ! " When the truth was, all their lives 
were saved by the greatest providence ever exerted in 
favour of three human creatures ; a*id the part Mr. 
Thrale took from desperation was the likeliest thing in 
the world to produce broken limbs and death. 

139. Fear. 

Fear was indeed a sensation to which Mr. Johnson 
was an utter stranger, excepting when some sudden ap- 
prehensions seized him that he was going to die; and 
even then he kept all his wits about him, to express the 
most humble and pathetic petitions to the Almighty : 
and when the first paralytic stroke took his speech from 
him, he instantly set about composing a prayer in Latin, 
at once to deprecate God's mercy, to satisfy himself that 
his mental powers remained unimpaired, and to keep 
them in exercise, that they might not perish by per- 
mitted stagnation. ( ] ) 

When one day he had at my house taken tincture of 
antimony instead of emetic wine, for a vomit, he was 
himself the person to direct us what to do for him, and 
managed with as much coolness and deliberation, as if 
he had been prescribing for an indifferent person. 

Though on another occasion, when he had lamented 
In the most piercing terms his approaching dissolution, 
and conjured me solemnly to tell him what I thought, 
while Sir Richard Jebb was perpetually on the road to 
Streatham, and Mr. Johnson seemed to think himself 
neglected if the physician left him for an hour only, I 
made him a steady, but as I thought a very gentle 

(1) [See ante, Vol. VIII. p. 223.J 
H 3 



102 JOHNSONIANA. 

harangue, in which I confirmed all that the Doctor had 
been saying, how no present danger could be expected ; 
but that his age and continued ill health must naturally 
accelerate the arrival of that hour which can be escaped 
by none : " And this, " says Johnson, rising in great 
anger, " is the voice of female friendship, I suppose 
when the hand of the hangman would be softer." 

Another day, when he was ill, and exceedingly low- 
spirited, and persuaded that death was not far distant, 
I appeared before him in a dark-coloured gown, which 
his bad sight, and worse apprehensions, made him mis- 
take for an iron-grey. " Why do you delight, " said 
he, ee thus to thicken the gloom of misery that sur- 
rounds me ? Is not here sufficient accumulation of 
horror without anticipated mourning ? " c< This is not 
mourning, Sir," said I, drawing the curtain, that the 
light might fall upon the silk, and show it was a purple 
mixed with green. " Well, well," replied he, changing 
his voice, " you little creatures should never wear those 
sort of clothes however ; they are unsuitable in every 
way. What ! have not all insects gay colours ? " I re- 
late these instances chiefly to iiiow that the fears of 
death itself could not suppress his wit, his sagacity, or 
his temptation to sudden resentment. 

140. Don Quixote. 
" Alas, Madam ! " said he, one day, " how few 
books are there of which one ever can possibly arrive at 
the last page ! Was there ever yet any thing written 
by mere man that was wished longer by its readers, 
excepting Don Quixote, Robinson Crusoe, and the 
Pilgrim's Progress ? " After Homer's Iliad, Mr. John- 
son confessed that the work of Cervantes was the great- 
est in the worlds speaking of it I mean as a book of 
entertainment. 



piozzi. 103 

141. French Literature. 
Dr. Johnson was a great reader of French literature, 
and delighted exceedingly in Boileau's works. Moliere 
1 think he had hardly sufficient taste of; and he used 
to condemn me for preferring La Bruyere to the Due 
de Rochefoucauld fS who/' he said, i( was the only 
gentleman writer who wrote like a professed author." 

142. Life of a Sailor. 
" The life of a sailor was also a continued scene of 
danger and exertion/' he said, i( and the manner in 
which, time was spent on shipboard would make all who 
saw a cabin envy a gaol." The roughness of the lan- 
guage used on board a man-of-war, where he passed a 
week on a visit to Captain Knight, disgusted him terri- 
bly. He asked an officer what some place was called, 
and received for answer, that it was where the loplolly 
man kept his loplolly : a reply, he considered, not un- 
justly, as disrespectful, gross, and ignorant ; for though 
I have been led to mention Dr. Johnson's tenderness 
towards poor people, I do not wish to mislead my 
readers, and make them think he had any delight in 
mean manners or coarse expressions. 

143. Dress. 
Even dress itself, when it resembled that of the 
vulgar, offended him exceedingly ; and when he had 
condemned me many times for not adorning my chil- 
dren with more show than I thought useful or elegant, 
I presented a little girl to him who came o' visiting one 
evening covered with shining ornaments, to see if he 
would approve of the appearance she made. When 
they were gone home, " Well, Sir," said I, ie how did 
you like little miss ? 1 hope she was fine enough." " It 
was the finery of a beggar/' said he, " and you know 
it was ; she looked like a native of Cow Lane dressed 
up to be carried to Bartholomew fair." 
h 4 



104 JOHNSONIANA. 

His reprimand to another lady for crossing her little 
child's handkerchief before, and by that operation drag- 
ging down its head oddly and unintentionally, was on 
the same principle. <c It is the beggar's fear of cold/' 
said he, <c that prevails over such parents, and so they 
pull the poor thing's head down, and give it the look of 
a baby that plays about Westminster Bridge, while the 
mother sits shivering in a niche." 

It was indeed astonishing how he could remark such 
minuteness with a sight so miserably imperfect; but no 
accidental position of a riband escaped him, so nice 
was his observation, and so rigorous his demands of 
propriety. When I went with him to Lichfield, and 
came down stairs to breakfast at the inn, my dress did 
not please him, and he made me alter it entirely before 
he would stir a step with us about the town, saying 
most satirical things concerning the appearance I made 
in a riding-habit ; and adding, <e 'Tis very strange that 
such eyes as yours cannot discern propriety of dress : 
if I had a sight only half as good, I think I should see 
to the centre." 

My compliances, however, were of little worth : what 
really surprised me was the victory he gained over a 
lady little accustomed to contradiction, who had dressed 
herself for church at Streatham one Sunday morning 
in a manner he did not approve, and to whom he* said 
such sharp and pungent things concerning her hat, her 
gown, &c. that she hastened to change them, and re- 
turning quite another figure received his applause, and 
thanked him for his reproofs, much to the amazement 
of her husband, who could scarcely believe his own 
ears. 

Another lady, whose accomplishments he never de- 
nied, came to our house one day covered with diamonds, 
feathers, &c, and he did not seem inclined to chat with 
her as usual. I asked him why ? when the company 
was gone. " Why ; her head looked so like that of a 



piozzi. 105 

woman who shows puppets/' said he, " and her voice 
so confirmed the fancy, that I could not bear her to- 
day ; when she wears a large cap, I can talk to her." 

When the ladies wore lace trimmings to their clothes, 
he expressed his contempt of the reigning fashion in 
these terms : — " A Brussels trimming is like bread 
sauce," said he, " it takes away the glow of colour from 
the gown, and gives you nothing instead of it; but 
sauce was invented to heighten the flavour of our food, 
and trimming is an ornament to the manteau, or it is 
nothing. Learn," said he, " that there is propriety or 
impropriety in every thing, how slight soever, and get 
at the general principles of dress and of behaviour ; if 
you then transgress them, you will at least know that 
they are not observed." 

144. Mrs. Piozzi s Account of her Rupture with 
Johnson, 

Ail these exactnesses in a man who was nothing less 
than exact himself, made him extremely impracticable 
as an inmate, though most instructive as a companion, 
and useful as a friend. Mr. Thrale, too, could some- 
times overrule his rigidity, by saying coldly, " There, 
there, now we have had enough for one lecture, Dr. 
Johnson ; we will not be upon education any more till 
after dinner, if you please, " — or some such speech : 
but when there was nobody to restrain his dislikes, it 
was extremely difficult to find any body with whom he 
could converse, without living always on the verge of 
a quarrel, or ef something too like a quarrel to be 
pleasing. 

I came into the room, for example, one evening, 
where he and a gentleman, whose abilities we all respect 
exceedingly, were sitting; a lady who walked in two 
minutes before me had blown 'em both into a flame, 
by whispering something to Mr. Seward, which he en- 
deavoured to explain away, so as not to affront the 



106 JOHNSONIANA. 

Doctor, whose suspicions were all alive. u And have 
a care, Sir," said he, just as I came in ; " the Old Lion 
will not bear to be tickled." The other was pale with 
rage, the Lady ( ] ) wept at the confusion she had caused, 
and I could only say, with Lady Macbeth, — 

" You 've displaced the mirth, broke the good meeting 
With most admired disorder." 

Such accidents, however, occurred too often, and I 
was forced to take advantage of my lost lawsuit, and 
plead inability of purse to remain longer in London or 
its vicinage. I had been crossed in my intentions of 
going abroad, and found it convenient, for every reason 
of health, peace, and pecuniary circumstances, to retire 
to Bath, where I knew Mr. Johnson would not follow 
me, and where I could for that reason command some 
little portion of time for my own use ; a thing impos- 
sible while I remained at Streatham or at London, as 
my hours, carriage, and servants had long been at his 
command, who would not rise in the morning till twelve 
o'clock perhaps, and oblige me to make breakfast for 
him till the bell rang for dinner, though much displeased 
if the toilet was neglected, and though much of the time 
we passed together was spent in blaming or deriding, 
very justly, my neglect of economy, and waste of that 
money which might make many families happy. 

The original reason of our connection, his particularly 
disordered health and spirits, had been long at an end, 
and he had no other ailments than old age and general 
infirmity, which every professor of medicine was ar- 
dently zealous and generally attentive to palliate, and to 
contribute all in their power for the prolongation of a 

(1) The lady's name was Streatfield, as Mr. Seward told me. 
She was very handsome, and a good scholar ; for she understood 
Greek. She was piqued at Mr. Seward's paying more atten- 
tion to Dr. Johnson than to her ; and on coming in, whispered, 
" how his bark sat on his stomach ; " alluding to the roughness 
which she supposed was in Dr. Johnson's conversation. — Ma* 
lone MS. 



piozzi. 107 

life so valuable. Veneration for his virtue, reverence 
for his talents, delight in his conversation, and habitual 
endurance of a yoke my husband first put upon me, 
and of which he contentedly bore his share for sixteen 
or seventeen years, made me go on so long with Mr, 
Johnson ; but the perpetual confinement I will own to 
have been terrifying in the first years of our friendship, 
and irksome in the last ; nor could I pretend to support 
it without help, when my coadjutor was no more. 

To the assistance we gave him, the shelter our house 
afforded to his uneasy fancies, and to the pains we took 
to sooth or repress them, the world perhaps is indebted 
for the three political pamphlets, the new edition and 
correction of his Dictionary, and for the Poets' Lives, 
which he would scarce have lived, I think, and kept his 
faculties entire, to have written, had not incessant care 
been exerted at the time of his first coming to be our 
constant guest in the country ; and several times after 
that, when he found himself particularly oppressed with 
diseases incident to the most vivid and fervent imagina- 
tions. I shall for ever consider it as the greatest honour 
which could be conferred on any one, to have been the 
confidential friend of Dr. Johnson's health; and to 
have in some measure, with Mr. Thrale's assistance, 
saved from distress at least, if not from worse, a mind 
great beyond the comprehension of common mortals, 
and good beyond all hope of imitation from perishable 
beings. 

145. Character of Johnson. 
When Mr. Thrale built the new library at Streatham 
and hung up over the books the portraits of his favourite 
friends, that of Dr. Johnson was last finished, and 
closed the number. It was almost impossible not to 
make verses on such an accidental combination of cir- 
cumstances, so I made the following ones : but as a 
Character written in verse will, for the most part, be 



J 08 JOHNSONIANA. 

found imperfect as a character, I have therefore written 
a prose one, with which I mean, not to complete, but 
to conclude these Anecdotes of the best and wisest 
man that ever came within the reach of my personal 
acquaintance, and I think I might venture to add, that 
of all or any of my readers : — 

" Gigantic in knowledge, in virtue, in strength, 
Our company closes with Johnson at length ; 
So the Greeks from the cavern of Polypheme pass'd 
When wisest, and greatest, Ulysses came last. 
To his comrades contemptuous, we see him look down. 
On their wit and their worth with a general frown, 
Since from Science' proud tree the rich fruit he receives, 
Who could shake the whole trunk while they turn'd a few 

leaves. 
His piety pure, his morality nice — 
Protector of virtue, and terror of vice ; 
In these features Religion's firm champion display'd, 
Shall make infidels fear for a modern crusade. 
While th' inflammable temper, the positive tongue, 
Too conscious of right for endurance of wrong, 
We suffer from Johnson, contented to find, 
That some notice we gain from so noble a mind ; 
And pardon our hurts, since so often we 've found 
The balm of instruction pour'd into the wound, 
'Tis thus for its virtues the chemists extol 
Pure rectified spirit, sublime alcohol ; 
From noxious putrescence, preservative pure, 
A cordial in health, and in sickness a cure ; 
But exposed to the sun, taking fire at his rays, 
Burns bright to the bottom, and ends in a blaze." 

It is usual, I know not why, when a Character is 
given, to begin with a description of the person ; that 
which contained the soul of Mr. Johnson deserves to be 
particularly described. His stature was remarkably 
high, and his limbs exceedingly large : his strength was 
more than common, I believe, and his activity had been 
greater, I have heard, than such a form gave one reason 



piozzi. 109 

vO expect : his features were strongly marked, and his 
countenance particularly rugged; though the original 
complexion had certainly been fair, a circumstance 
somewhat unusual : his sight was near, and otherwise 
imperfect ; yet his eyes, though of a light grey colour, 
were so wild, so piercing, and at times so fierce, that 
fear was, I believe, the first emotion in the hearts of all 
his beholders. His mind was so comprehensive, that 
no language but that he used could have expressed its 
contents ; and so ponderous was his language, that sen- 
timents less lofty and less solid than his were, would 
have been encumbered, not adorned by it. 

Mr. Johnson was not intentionally, however, a 
pompous converser ; and though he was accused of 
using big words, as they are called, it was only when 
little ones would not express his meaning as clearly, or 
when perhaps the elevation of the thought would have 
been disgraced by a dress less superb. He used to say, 
that " the size of a man's understanding might always 
be justly measured by his mirth ; " and his own was 
never contemptible. He would laugh at a stroke of 
genuine humour, or sudden sally of odd absurdity, as 
heartily and freely as I ever yet saw any man; and 
though the jest was often such as few felt besides him- 
self, yet his laugh was irresistible, and was observed 
immediately to produce that of the company, not merely 
from the notion that it was proper to laugh when he 
did, but purely out of want of power to forbear it. He 
was no enemy to splendour of apparel or pomp of equi- 
page — " Life," he would say, " is barren enough "surely 
with all her trappings ; let us therefore be cautious how 
we strip her." In matters of still higher moment he 
once observed, when speaking on the subject of sudden 
innovation, — u He who plants a forest may doubtless 
c?At down a hedge ; yet I eould wish, methinks, that even 
k * would wait till he sees his young plants grow." 

With regard to common occurrences, Mr. Johnson 



110 JOHNSONIANA. 

had, when I first knew him, looked on the still-shifting 
scenes of life till he was weary ; for as a mind slow in 
its own nature, or unenlivened by information, will 
contentedly read in the same book for twenty times per- 
haps, the very act of reading it being more than half 
the business, and every period being at every reading 
better understood ; while a mind more active or more 
skilful to comprehend its meaning is made sincerely 
sick at the second perusal : so a soul like his, acute to 
discern the truth, vigorous to embrace, and powerful to 
retain it, soon sees enough of the world's dull prospect, 
which at first, like that of the sea, pleases by its extent 
but soon, like that, too, fatigues from its uniformity ; a 
calm and a storm being the only variations that the 
nature of either will admit. 

Of Mr. Johnson's erudition the world has been the 
judge, and we who produce each a score of his sayings, 
as proofs of that wit which in him was inexhaustible, 
resemble travellers who, having visited Delhi or Gol- 
conda, bring home each a handful of Oriental pearl to 
evince the riches of the Great Mogul. May the public 
condescend to accept my ill-strung selection with pa- 
tience at least, remembering only that they are relics of 
him who was great on all occasions, and, like a cube in 
architecture* you beheld him on each side, and his size 
still appeared undiminished. 

As his purse was ever open to almsgiving, so was his 
heart tender to those who wanted relief, and his soul 
susceptible of gratitude, and of every kind impression ; 
yet though he had refined his sensibility, he had not 
endangered his quiet, by encouraging in himself a soli- 
citude about trifles, which he treated with the contempt 
they deserve. 

It was well enough known before these sheets were 
published, that Mr. Johnson had a roughness in his 
manner which subdued the saucy, and terrified the 
meek : this was, when I knew him, the prominent part 



PIOZZI. Ill 

of a character which few durst venture to approach so 
nearly ; and which was, for that reason, in many re- 
spects, grossly and frequently mistaken; and it was 
perhaps peculiar to him, that the lofty consciousness of 
his own superiority, which animated his looks, and 
raised his voice in conversation, cast likewise an impe- 
netrable veil over him when he said nothing. His talk 
therefore had commonly the complexion of arrogance, 
his silence of superciliousness. He was, however, sel- 
dom inclined to be silent when any moral or literary 
question was started : and it was on such occasions, 
that, like the sage in Rasselas, he spoke, and attention 
watched his lips ; he reasoned, and conviction closed 
his periods : if poetry was talked of, his quotations were 
the readiest ; and had he not been eminent for more 
solid and brilliant qualities, mankind would have united 
to extol his extraordinary memory. His manner of re- 
peating deserves to be described, though, at the same 
time, it defeats all power of description ; but whoever 
once heard him repeat an ode of Horace, would be long 
before they could endure to hear it repeated by another. 

His equity in giving the character of living acquaint- 
ance ought not undoubtedly to be omitted in his own, 
whence partiality and prejudice were totally excluded, 
and truth alone presided in his tongue : a steadiness of 
conduct the more to be commended, as no man had 
stronger likings or aversions. His veracity was, indeed, 
from the most trivial to the most solemn occasions, 
strict, even to severity ; he scorned to embellish a story 
with fictitious circumstances, which, he used to say, 
took off from its real value. " A story," says Johnson, 
" should be a specimen of life and manners ; but if the 
surrounding circumstances are false, as it is no more a 
representation of reality, it is no longer worthy our 
attention." 

For the rest, — that beneficence which, during his 
life, increased the comforts of so many, may after his 



11£ JOHNSONfANA. 

death be perhaps ungratefully forgotten ; but that piety 
which dictated the serious papers in the Rambler, will 
be for ever remembered ; for ever, I think, revered. 
That ample repository of religious truth, moral wisdom, 
and accurate criticism, breathes indeed the genuine 
emanations of its great author's mind, expressed too in 
a style so natural to him, and so much like his common 
mode of conversing, that I was myself but little asto- 
nished when he told me, that he had scarcely read over 
one of those inimitable essays before they went to the 
press. 

I will add one or two peculiarities more, before I lay 
down my pen. Though at an immeasurable distance 
from content in the contemplation of his own uncouth 
form and figure, he did not like another man much the 
less for being a coxcomb. I mentioned two friends 
who were particularly fond of looking at themselves in 
a glass : " They do not surprise me at all by so doing/' 
said Johnson : " they see, reflected in that glass, men 
who have risen from almost the lowest situations in life; 
one to enormous riches, the other to every thing this 
world can give — rank, fame, and fortune. They see, 
likewise, men who have merited their advancement by 
the exertion and improvement of those talents which 
God had given them ; and I see not why they should 
avoid the mirror." 

The other singularity I promised to record is this : 
that though a man of obscure birth himself, his par- 
tiality to people of family was visible on every occasion ; 
his zeal for subordination warm even to bigotry ; his 
hatred to innovation, and reverence for the old feudal 
times, apparent, whenever any possible manner of show- 
ing them occurred. I have spoken of his piety, his 
charity, and his truth, the enlargement of his heart, and 
the delicacy of his sentiments ; and when I search for 
shadow to my portrait, none can I find but what was 
formed by pride, differently modified as different occa- 



piozzi. 113 

sions showed it ; yet never was pride so purified as 
Johnson's, at once from meanness and from vanity. 
The mind of this man was indeed expanded beyond the 
common limits of human nature, and stored with such 
variety of knowledge, that I used to think it resembled 
a royal pleasure-ground, where every plant, of every 
name and nation, flourished in the full perfection of 
their powers ; and where, though lofty woods and falling 
cataracts first caught the eye, and fixed the earliest at- 
tention of beholders, yet neither the trim parterre nor 
the pleasing shrubbery, nor even the antiquated ever- 
greens, were denied a place in some fit corner of the 
happy valley. 

{The following Anecdotes, Opinions, and Reflections are 
from the Collection of Dr. Johnsons Letters, pub- 
lished by Mrs. Piozzi, in 1788.]] 

146. Domestic Tragedies. 
What is nearest us touches us most. The passions 
rise higher at domestic than at imperial tragedies. 

147- Calamities. 
When any calamity is suffered, the first thing to be 
remembered is, how much has been escaped. 

148. Grief. 

Grief is a species of idleness, and the necessity of at- 
tention to the present preserves us, by the merciful 
disposition of Providence, from being lacerated and 
devoured by sorrow for the past. 

149. Vows. 

All unnecessary vows are folly, because they suppose 
a prescience of the future which has not been given us. 

VOL. IX. 1 



114 JOHNSONIANA. 

They are, I think, a crime, because they resign that life 
to chance, which God has given us to be regulated by 
reason ; and superinduce a kind of fatuity, from which 
it is the great privilege of our nature to be free. I 
think an unlimited promise of acting by the opinion 
of another so wrong, that nothing, or hardly any thing, 
can make it right. 

150. Filial Obedience, 

Unlimited obedience is due only to the Universal 
Father of heaven and earth. My parents may be mad 
or foolish ; may be wicked and malicious ; may be er- 
roneously religious, or absurdly scrupulous. I am not 
bound to compliance with mandates, either positive or 
negative, which either religion condemns or reason 
rejects. 

There wanders about the world a wild notion, which 
extends over marriage more than over any other trans- 
action. If Miss **** followed a trade, would it be 
said that she was bound in conscience to give or 
refuse credit at her father's choice ? And is not mar- 
riage a thing in which she is more interested, and has 
therefore more right of choice ? When I may suffer 
for my own crimes, when I may be sued for my own 
debts, I may judge, by parity of reason, for my own 
happiness. 

151. To-morrow. 

You do not tell me whither the young lovers are 
gone. What a life do they image in futurity ! how 
unlike to what they are to find ! But To-morrow is an 
old deceiver, and his cheat never grows stale. 

152. Praise and Flattery. 
The difference between praise and flattery is the 
same as between that hospitality that sets wine enough 
before the guest, and that which forces him to be 
drunk. 



piozzi. 115 

153. Travellers and Books of Travels. 

He that wanders about the world sees new forms of 
human misery; and if he chances to meet an old friend,, 
meets a face darkened by troubles. You have often 
heard me complain of finding myself disappointed by 
books of travels. I am afraid travel itself will end like- 
wise in disappointment. One town, one country, is very 
like another : civilised nations have the same customs, 
and barbarous nations have the same nature : there are 
indeed minute discriminations both of places and man- 
ners, which, perhaps, are not wanting of curiosity, but 
which a traveller seldom stays long enough to investi- 
gate and compare. The dull utterly neglect them; the 
acute see a little, and supply the rest with fancy and 
conjecture. 

154. Use of Travelling. 

The use of travelling is to regulate imagination by 
reality, and, instead of thinking how things may be, 
to see them as they are. 

155. Principles. 
Principles can only be strong by the strength of 
understanding, or the cogency of religion. 

156. Dr. Cheyne. — Burton. 
" All is best," says Cheyne, " as it has been, ex- 
cepting the errors of our own free will." Burton con- 
cludes his long book upon melancholy with this important 
precept : — " Be not solitary ; be not idle." Remember 
Cheyne' s position, and observe Burton's precept. 

157. Compliments. 
Do not make speeches to your country friends. Un- 
usual compliments, to which there is no stated and 
prescriptive answer, embarrass the feeble, who know not 
what to say, and disgust the wise, who, knowing them 
to be false, suspect them to be hypocritical, 
i 2 



116 JOHNSONIANA. 

158. Seeing Shows. 
It is easy to talk of sitting at home contented, when 
others are seeing or making shows. But not to have 
been where it is supposed that all would go if they could ; 
to be able to say nothing when every one is talking ; to 
have no opinion where every one is judging ; to hear 
exclamations of rapture without power to depress ; to 
listen to falsehoods without right to contradict, is, after 
all, a state of temporary inferiority, in which the mind 
is rather hardened by stubbornness, than supported by 
fortitude. 

159. Mingling with the World, 
If the world be worth winning, let us enjoy it • if it 
is to be despised, let us despise it by conviction. But 
the world is not to be despised, but as it is compared 
with something better. Company is in itself better 
than solitude, and pleasure better than indolence. Ex 
nihilo nihil fit, says the moral as well as natural philo- 
sopher. By doing nothing, and by knowing nothing, 
no power of doing good can be obtained. He must 
mingle with the world that deserves to be useful. 
Every new scene comprises new ideas, enriches the 
imagination, and enlarges the powers of reason, by new 
topics of comparison. 

160. Disappointment. 
All pleasure preconceived and preconcerted ends in 
disappointment ; but disappointment, when it involves 
neither shame nor loss, is as good as success ; for it 
supplies as many images to the mind, and as many 
topics to the tongue. 

l6l. Bright and cloudy Days. 
Most men have their bright and their cloudy days ; 
at least, they have days when they put their powers into 
act, and days when they suffer them to repose. 



piozzi. 117 

162. Keeping a Diary. 
Do not remit the practice of writing down occurrences 
as they arise, of whatever kind, and he very punctual 
in annexing the dates. Chronology, you know, is the 
eye of history ; and every man's life is of importance to 
himself. Do not omit painful casualties, or unpleasing 
passages, they make the variegation of existence ; and 
there are many transactions, of which I will not premise, 
with JEneas, et hcec olim meminisse juvabit ; — yet that 
remembrance which is not pleasant may be useful. 
There is, however, an intemperate attention to slight 
circumstances which is to be avoided, lest a great part 
of life be spent in writing the history of the rest. Every 
day, perhaps, has something to be noted ; but in a set- 
tled and uniform course few days can have much. 

163. Camps. 
A camp, however familiarly we may speak of it, is 
one of the great scenes of human life. War and peace 
divide the business of the world. Camps are the ha- 
bitations of those who conquer kingdoms, or defend 
them. 

164. Affliction, 
To grieve for evils is often wrong ; but it is much 
more wrong to grieve without them. All sorrow that 
lasts longer than its cause is morbid, and should be 
shaken off as an attack of melancholy, as the forerunner 
of a greater evil than poverty or pain. 

1 65, Weariness. — Labour. — Exercise. 
Weariness is itself a temporary resolution of the 
nerves, and is therefore to be avoided. Labour is ex- 
ercise, continued to fatigue. Exercise is labour, used 
only while it produces pleasure. 

1 S 



118 JOHNSONIANA. 

166. " Nil admirari." 
Horace says, that "Nil admirari" is the only thing 
that can make or keep a man happy. It is, with equal 
truth, the 'only thing that can keep a man honest. The 
desire of fame, not regulated, is as dangerous to virtue 
as that of money. 

I67. Religious Education. 

It has happened to , as to many active and 

prosperous men, that his mind has been wholly ab- 
sorbed in business, or at intervals dissolved in amuse- 
ment ; and habituated so long to certain modes of 
employment or diversion, that in the decline of life it 
can no more receive a new train of images, than the 
hand can acquire dexterity in a new mechanical oper- 
ation. For this reason a religious education is so 
necessary. Spiritual ideas may be recollected in old age, 
but can hardly be acquired. 

168. Critics. 

Never let criticisms operate upon your face or your 
mind : it is very rarely that an author is hurt by his 
critics. The blaze of reputation cannot be blown out ; 
but it often dies in the socket : a very few names may 
be considered as perpetual lamps that shine uncon- 
sumed. 

169. Seat in Parliament. 

It would be with great discontent that I should see 
Mr. Thrale decline the representation of the Borough. 
To sit in parliament for Southwark is the highest honour 
that his station permits him to attain ; and his ambition 
to attain it is rational and laudable. I will not say that 
for an honest man to struggle for a vote in the legisla- 
ture, at a time when honest votes are so much wanted, 
is absolutely a duty ; but it is surely an act of virtue. 
The expense, if it was more, I should wish him to de- 
spise. Money is made for such purposes as this. 



1 



piozzi. 119 

170. Sorrow. 
There is no wisdom in useless and hopeless sorrow ; 
but there is something in it so like virtue, that he who 
is wholly without it cannot be loved, nor will, by me at 
least, be thought worthy of esteem. 

171. Kindness. — Compassion. 
The world is not so unjust or unkind as it is peevishly 
represented. Those who deserve well seldom fail to 
receive from others such services as they can perform ; 
but few have much in their power, or are so stationed 
as to have great leisure from their own affairs ; and 
kindness must be commonly the exuberance of content. 
The wretched have no compassion ; they can do good 
only from strong principles of duty. 

172. Anonymous Authors. 
I have been at Lichfield persecuted with solicitations 
to read a poem ; but I sent the author word, that I 
would never review the work of an anonymous author : 
for why should I put my name in the power of one 
who will not trust me with his own ? With this answer 
Lucy was satisfied ; and I think it may satisfy all whom 
it may concern. 

173. Hyperbolical Praise. 
Do not flatter. Cool reciprocations of esteem are the 
great comforts of life : hyperbolical praise only corrupts 
the tongue of the one, and the ear of the other. 

174. Computation. 
Nothing amuses more harmlessly than computa- 
tion, and nothing is oftener applicable to real business 
or speculative inquiries. A thousand stories which the 
ignorant tell, and believe, die away at once, when the 
computist takes them in his gripe. Cultivate in your- 
self a disposition to numerical inquiries : they will give 
1 4 



120 JOHNSONIANA. 

you entertainment in solitude by the practice, and re- 
putation in public by the effect. 

175. Female Gluttony. 
Gluttony is less common among women than among 
men. Women commonly eat more sparingly, and are 
less curious in the choke of meat ; but, if once you find 
a woman gluttonous, expect from her very little virtue. 
Her mind is enslaved to the lowest and grossest tempt- 
ation. 

176. Nature. — Human Life. 
Take all opportunities of filling your mind with 
genuine scenes of nature. Description is always fal- 
lacious ; at least, till you have seen realities, you cannot 
know it to be true. This observation might be ex- 
tended to life ; but life cannot be surveyed with the 
same safety as nature ; and it is better to know vice and 
folly by report than by experience. A painter, says 
Sydney, mingled in the battle, that he might know how 
to paint it ; but his knowledge was useless, for some 
mischievous sword took away his head. They whose 
speculation upon characters leads them too far into the 
world, may lose that nice sense of good and evil by 
which characters are to be tried. Acquaint yourself, 
therefore, both with the pleasing and the terrible parts 
of nature ; but, in life, wish to know only the good. 

177. Mrs. Porter, the Tragedian. 
Mrs. Porter was so much the favourite of her time, 
that she was welcomed on the stage when she trod it 
by the help of a stick. She taught her pupils no 
violent graces ; for she was a woman of very gentle 
and lady-like manners, though without much extent of 
knowledge, or activity of understanding. 



piozzi. 121 

178. Dictionaries. 

Dictionaries are like watches ; the worst is better 
than none,, and the best cannot be expected to go quite 
true. 

179- Attention. 

Endeavour to reform that instability of attention 
which you have lately betrayed. Perhaps it is natural 
for those that have much within to think little on things 
without ; but whoever lives heedlessly lives but in a 
mist, perpetually deceived by false appearances of the 
past, without any certain reliance or recollection. 

180. Initials. 
I have a letter signed S. A. Thrale. I take S. A. to 
be Miss Sophy : but who is bound to recollect initials ? 
A name should be written, if not fully, yet so that 
it cannot be mistaken. 

181. Old Friendships. 
Those that have loved longest love best. A sudden 
blaze of kindness may, by a single blast of coldness, be 
extinguished ; but that fondness which length of time 
has connected with many circumstances and occasions, 
though it may for a while be suppressed by disgust 
or resentment, with or without a cause, is hourly re- 
vived by accidental recollection. To those that have 
lived long together, every thing heard and every thing 
seen, recals some pleasure communicated, or some benefit 
conferred, some petty quarrel, or some slight endear- 
ment. Esteem of great powers, or amiable qualities 
newly discovered, may embroider a day or a week ; but 
a friendship of twenty years is interwoven with the 
texture of life. A friend may be often found and lost ; 
but an old friend never can be found, and nature has 
provided that he cannot easily be lost. 



122 JOHNSONIANA. 

182. Death. 
The frequency of death, to those who look upon it 
in the leisure of Arcadia, is very dreadful. We all 
know what it should teach us ; let us all be diligent to 
learn. 

183. Incommunicative Taciturnity. 
Incommunicative taciturnity neither imparts nor in- 
vites friendship, hut reposes on a stubborn sufficiency, 
self-centered, and neglects the interchange of that social 
officiousness by which we are habitually endeared to 
one another. They that mean to make no use of friends 
will be at little trouble to gain them ; and to be without 
friendship is to be without one of the first comforts of 
our present state. To have no assistance from other 
minds, in resolving doubts, in appeasing scruples, in 
balancing deliberations, is a very wretched destitution, 

184. Purposes. 
Life, to be worthy of a rational being, must be always 
in progression : we must always purpose to do more or 
better than in past time. The mind is enlarged and 
elevated by mere purposes, though they end as they 
begin, by airy contemplation. We compare and judge, 
though we do not practise. 

185. Visitors. — Domestic Companions. 
Visitors are no proper companions in the chamber of 
sickness. They come when I could sleep or read ; 
they stay till I am weary; they force me to attend 
when my mind calls for relaxation, and to speak when 
my powers will hardly actuate my tongue. The amuse- 
ments and consolations of languor and depression are 
conferred by familiar and domestic companions, which 
can be visited or called at will, and can occasionally be 
quitted or dismissed ; who do not obstruct accommo- 
dation by ceremony, or destroy indolence by awakening 
effort. 



piozzi. 123 

186. Hannah Mores " Bas Bleu," 
Miss More has written a poem called " Le Bas Bleu/' 
which is, in my opinion, a very great performance. It 
wanders about in manuscript, and surely will soon find 
its way to Bath. 

187. Attention and Respect. 
I have now (Dec. 31. 1783) in the house pheasant, 
venison, turkey, and ham, all unbought. Attention and 
respect give pleasure, however late or however useless. 
But they are not useless when they are late : it is rea- 
sonable to rejoice, as the day declines, to find that it 
has been spent with the approbation of mankind. 

188. Talk of the Sick. 
The first talk of the sick is commonly of themselves ; 
but if they talk of nothing else, they cannot complain 
if they are soon left without an audience. 

189. '' The Rambler" in Russian. 
The chaplain of the factory at Petersburg relates, 
that C( The Rambler" is now, by the command of the 
Empress, translating into Russian (*); and has promised 
when it is printed to send me a copy. Grant, O Lord ! 
that all who shall read my pages may become more 
obedient to thy laws ; and when the wretched writer 
shall appear before thee, extend thy mercy to him, for 
the sake of Jesus Christ. 

190. Confidence with respect to Futurity. 

I never thought confidence with respect to futurity 

any part of the character of a brave, a wise, or a good 

man. Bravery has no place where it can avail nothing ; 

wisdom impresses strongly the consciousness of those 

(1) [See ante. Vol. VIII. p. 274.] 



124 JOHNSONIANA. 

faults, of which it is itself perhaps an aggravation ; and 
goodness, always wishing to be better, and imputing 
every deficience to criminal negligence, and every fault 
to voluntary corruption, never dares to suppose the con- 
dition of forgiveness fulfilled, nor what is wanting on 
the crime supplied by penitence. This is the state of 
the best ; but what must be the condition of him whose 
heart will not suffer him to rank himself among the 
best, or among the good ? Such must be his dread of 
the approaching trial, as will leave him little attention 
to the opinion of those whom he is leaving for ever ; 
and the serenity that is not felt, it can be no virtue to 
feign. 

191. iC Dying with a Grace" 
Write to me no more about dying with a grace ! 
When you feel what I have felt in approaching eternity, 
in fear of soon hearing the sentence of which there is 
no revocation, you will know the folly : my wish is, 
that you may know it sooner. The distance between 
the grave and the remotest point of human longevity, is 
but very little ; and of that little no path is certain. 
You knew all this, and I thought that I knew it too ; 
but I know it now with a new conviction. May that 
new conviction not be vain ! 

192. " Irene. 11 — " Cato" — " Fair Penitent" 
Dr. Johnson was no complainer of ill. I never heard 
him even lament the disregard shown to " Irene/' which, 
however, was a violent favourite with him ; and much 
was he offended when, having asked me once, t€ What 
single scene afforded me most pleasure of all our tragic 
drama," I, little thinking of his play's existence, named, 
perhaps with hasty impropriety, " the dialogue between 
Syphax and Juba, in Addison's c Cato/" " Nay, nay," 
replied he, " if you are for declamation, I hope my two 
ladies have the better of them all." This piece, however, 
lay dormant many years, shelfed (in the manager's 



piozzi. 125 

phrase) from the time Mr. Peter Garrick presented it 
first on Fleetwood's table, to the hour when his brother 
David obtained due influence on the theatre, on which 
it crawled through nine nights, supported by cordials, 
but never obtained popular applause. I asked him then 
to name a better scene; he pitched on that between 
Horatio and Lothario, in Rowe's " Fair Penitent ;" but 
Mr. Murphy showed him afterwards that it was bor- 
rowed from Massinger, and had not the merit of 
originality. 

193. Profession of an Actor . — Garrick. — Mrs. Siddons. 

It is well known that Johnson despised the pro- 
fession of an actor. When Garrick was talked of as 
candidate for admission into the Literary Club, many 
years ago, — " If he does apply," says the Doctor to 
Mr.Thrale, " I'll blackball him." "Who, Sir? Mr. 
Garrick, your friend, your companion, — blackball 
him ! *' " Why, Sir, I love my little David dearly ; 
better than all or any of his flatterers do ; but surely one 
ought to sit in a society like ours — 

• Unelbow'd by a gamester, pimp, or player. ' " 

In spite of this ill-founded contempt, he persuaded 
himself to treat Mrs. Siddons with great politeness ; and 
said, when she called on him at Bolt Court, and Frank 
could not immediately provide her with a chair, "You 
see, Madam, wherever you go there are no seats to be 
got." 

194. Johnson s last Illness and Death. 

Dr. Johnson was once angry with his friend Dr. 
Taylor of Ashbourne, for recommending to him a de- 
gree of temperance, by which alone his life could have 
been saved, and recommending it in his own unaltered 
phrase too, with praiseworthy intentions to impress it 
more forcibly. This quarrel, however, if quarrel it 
might be called, which was mere sullenness on one side, 
and sorrow on the other, soon healed of itself, mutual 



126 JOHNSONIANA. 

reproaches having never been permitted to widen the 
breach, and supply, as is the common practice among 
coarser disputants, the original and perhaps almost for- 
gotten cause of dispute. After some weeks, Johnson 
sent to request the sight of his old companion, whose 
feeble health held him away for some weeks more, and 
who, when he came, urged that feebleness as an excuse 
for appearing no sooner at the call of friendship in dis- 
tress ; but Johnson, who was then, as he expressed it, 
not sick but dying, told him a story of a lady, who 
many years before lay expiring in such tortures as that 
cruel disease, a cancer, naturally produces, and begged 
the conversation of her earliest intimate to soothe the 
incredible sufferings of her body, and relieve the ap- 
proaching terrors of her mind: but what was the 
friend's apology for absence ? ce Oh, my dear," said 
she, " I have really been so plagued and so pained of 
late by a nasty whitlow, that indeed it was quite impos- 
sible for me till to-day to attend my Lucy's call." I 
tbink this was not more than two days before his dis- 
solution. 

Some Lichfield friends fancied that he had half a 
mind to die where he was born, but that the hope of 
being buried in Westminster Abbey overpowered the 
inclination ; but Mr. Johnson loved London, and many 
people then in London, whom I doubt not he sincerely 
wished to see again, particularly Mr. Sastres, for whose 
person some of his letters manifest a strong affection, 
and of whose talents I have often heard him speak with 
great esteem. That gentleman has told me, that his 
fears of death ended with his hope of recovery, and that 
the latter days of his life passed in calm resignation to 
God's will, and a firm trust in his mercy. 

He burned many letters in the last week, I am told ; 
and those written by his mother drew from him a flood 
of tears, when the paper they were written on was all 
consumed. Mr. Sastres saw him cast a melancholy 



PIOZZI. 



127 



look upon their ashes, which he took up and examined, 
to see if a word was still legible. Nobody has ever 
mentioned what became of Miss Aston' s letters, though 
he once told me himself, they should be the last papers 
he would destroy, and added these lines with a very 
faltering voice : — 

" Then from his closing eye thy form shall part, 
And the last pang shall tear thee from his heart; 
Life's idle business at one gasp be o'er, 
The Muse forgot, and thou beloved no more," 

I95. Rape of the Lock. 
Dr. Johnson says of Pope, iC He has a few double 
rhymes; but always, I think, unsuccessfully, except 
once in the Rape of the Lock/' 

" The meeting points the fatal lock dissever 
From the fair head — for ever and for ever," — 

was the couplet Johnson meant, for I asked him. 

196. Streafham Gallery. 
The following is a list of the prices which the 
Streatham collection of portraits, by Sir Joshua Rey- 
nolds, brought at auction in May, 181 6 : — 



Lady Downshire ; his heir. 

Mr. Lyttelton ; his son. 

S. Boddington, Esq. j a rich merchant 

Duke of Bedford. 

R. Sharp, Esq., of Park Lane. 

Lady Chambers ; his widow. 

Dr. Charles Burney, Greenwich. 

— Stewart, Esq. : I know not who. 

Dr. C. Burney, of Greenwich, his son. 

R. Sharp, Esq. 

Watson Taylor, Esq.— H. L. P." 0) 





£ s. 


d. 


Lord Sandys - 


- 36 15 


© 


Lord Lyttelton 


- 43 1 





Mrs. Piozzi 


- 81 18 





Goldsmith 


- 133 7 





Sir J. Reynolds 


- 128 2 





Sir R, Chambers 


- 84 





David Garrick 


- 183 15 





Baretti 


- 31 10 





Dr. Burney 


- 84 





Edmund Burke 


- 252 





Dr. Johnson 


-378 






(l) [Dr. Johnson's — infinitely the finest of these portraits, as 
a work of art, and second not even to Mr. Burke's as an object 
of national interest — passed, at Mr. Watson Taylor's sale, into 
the hands of Sir Robert Peel.] 



128 JOHNSONIANA 



Part II. 

ANECDOTES AND SAYINGS OF JOHNSON, 
SELECTED FROM HAWKINS, (i) 



197. Portable Books. 
Dr. Johnson used to say, that no man read long to- 
gether with a folio on his table. cc Books/' said he, 
ec that you may carry to the fire, and hold readily in 
your hand, are the most useful after all." He would 
say, Ci such hooks form the mass of general and easy 
reading." He was a great friend to books like the 
French " Esprits dun tel; " for example, ee Beauties of 
Watts," &c. &c. : " at which/' said he, u a man will 
often look and be tempted to go on, when he would 
have been frightened at books of a larger size, and of a 
more erudite appearance. 

198. Conversation, 
He had a great opinion of the knowledge procured 
by conversation with intelligent and ingenious persons. 
His first question concerning such as had that character 
was ever, u What is his conversation ? " 

(l) [Sir John Hawkins published, in 1787, his Life of John- 
son ; and, in the same year, superintended an edition of the 
Doctor's Works, in eleven volumes octavo. From these pub- 
lications the present selection has been made.] 






HAWKINS. 129 

199* Christian Religion. 
The Duke of * * * once said to Johnson, " that 
every religion had a certain degree of morality in it." 
(< Ay, my lord," answered he, " but the Christian re- 
ligion alone puts it on its proper basis." 

200. Learned Ladies. — Mrs. Carter. 
He used to say something tantamount to this : When 
a woman affects learning, she makes a rivalry between 
the two sexes for the same accomplishments, which 
ought not to be, their provinces being different. Milton 
said before him, 

" For contemplation he and valour form'd, 
For softness she and sweet attractive grace." 

And upon hearing a lady of his acquaintance commended 
for her learning, he said, " A man is in general better 
pleased when he has a good dinner upon his table than 
when his wife talks Greek. My old friend, Mrs. Car. 
ter," he added, " could make a pudding as well as 
translate Epictetus from the Greek, and work a hand- 
kerchief as well as compose a poem." He thought, 
however, that she was too reserved in conversation upon 
subjects she was so eminently able to converse upon, 
which was occasioned by her modesty and fear of giving 
offence. 

201. Rising in the World. — Foote. 
When some one was lamenting Foote's unlucky fate 
in being kicked, in Dublin, Johnson said he was glad of 
it. " He is rising in the world," said he : " when he 
was in England, no one thought it worth while to kick 
him." 

202. Precepts and Practice. 
To a person, who once said he paid little regard to 
those writers on religion or morality whose practice 
corresponded not with their precepts, he imputed a want 

VOL. IX. K 



130 JOHNSONIANA. 

of knowledge of mankind; saying, it was gross ignorance 
in him not to know, that good principles and an irre- 
gular life were consistent with each other. 

203. Volubility. 
Of a member of parliament, who, after having ha- 
rangued for some hours in the House of Commons, came 
into a company where Johnson was, and endeavoured to 
talk him down, he said, " This man has a pulse in his 
tongue." 

204. Equality — Mrs. Macaulay. 

Dr. Johnson and Dr. Sumner, of Harrow, were dining 
one day, with many other persons, at Mrs. Macaulay 's. ( ] ) 
She had talked a long time at dinner about the natural 
equality of mankind. Johnson, when she had finished 
her harangue, rose up from the table, and with great 
solemnity of countenance, and a bow to the ground, said 
to the servant, who was waiting behind his chair, 
Ci Mr. John, pray be seated in my place, and permit 
me to wait upon you in my turn : your mistress says, 
you hear, that we are all equal." 

205. Divine Service. — Dr. Dodd. 

" I am convinced/' said he to a friend, " I ought 
to be present at divine service ( 2 ) more frequently than 
I am ; but the provocations given by ignorant and af- 
fected preachers, too often disturb the mental calm 
which otherwise would succeed to prayer. I am apt to 
whisper to myself on such occasions, How can this 
illiterate fellow dream of fixing attention, after we have 
been listening to the sublimest truths, conveyed in the 
most chaste and exalted language, throughout a liturgy 
which must be regarded as the genuine offspring of piety 
impregnated by wisdom ! Take notice, however, though 

(1) See ante, Vol. I. p. 289., Vol. II. p. 233., and Vol. VI. 
p. 198.— C. 
* (2) [See ante, Vol. VI. p. 281.] 



HAWKINS. 131 

I make this confession respecting myself, I do not mean 
to recommend the fastidiousness that sometimes leads 
me to exchange congregational for solitary worship." 
He was at Streatham church when Dodd's first applica- 
tion to him was made., and went out of his pew imme- 
diately, to write an answer to the letter he had received. 
Afterwards, when he related this circumstance, he added, 
<( I hope I shall be pardoned, if once I deserted the 
service of God for that of man." 

206. Physicians. 
Johnson obeyed that precept of Scripture which ex- 
horts us to honour the physician, and would frequently 
say of those of his own country, that they did more good 
to mankind, without a prospect of reward, than any 
profession of men whatever. 

207. Romantic Virtue. 
Dr. Johnson said, he always mistrusted romantic 
virtue, as thinking it founded on no fixed principle. 

208. Schoohnasters. 
Speaking of schoolmasters, he used to say they were 
worse than the Egyptian taskmasters of old. ec No 
boy," says he, " is sure any day he goes to school to 
escape a whipping. How can the schoolmaster tell 
what the boy has really forgotten, and what he has neg- 
lected to learn ; what he has had no opportunities of 
learning, and what he has taken no pains to get at the 
knowledge of? yet, for any of these, however difficult 
they may be, the boy is obnoxious to punishment. " 

209. Mystery. 
He used to say that where secrecy or mystery began 
vice or roguery was not far off. 

k 2 



132 .JOHNSONIANA. 

210. "Derange." 
He would not allow the verb derange, a word at pre- 
sent much in use, to be an English word. " Sir," 
said a gentleman who had some pretensions to literature, 
" I have seen it in a book." " Not in a bound book/ 
said Johnson ; " disarrange is the word we ought to 
use instead of it." ( ] ) 

211. Hugh Kelly. 
When some one asked him whether they should in- 
troduce Hugh Kelly, the author, to him — U No, Sir," 
says he, " I never desire to converse with a man who 
has written more than he has read : " yet when his play 
was acted for the benefit of his widow, Johnson fur- 
nished a prologue. 

212. The Early Puritans. 
Of the early Puritans, he thought their want of learn- 
ing was atoned for by their skill in the Scriptures, and 
the holiness of their lives ; and, to justify his opinion 
of them and their writings, he once cited to me a saying 
of Howell, in one of his letters, that to make a man a 
complete Christian, he must have the works of a Papist, 
the words of a Puritan, and the faith of a Protestant. 

213. Happiness. 
He thought the happiest life was that of a man of 
business, with some literary pursuits for his amusement ; 
and that, in general, no one could be virtuous or happy 
that was not completely employed. 

214. George Psalmanazar. 
He had never, he said, seen the close of the life of 
any one that he wished so much his own to resemble, as 

(1) Even so late as the year 1795, a writer in the British 
Critic censured, as a gallicism, Mr. Burke's use of derange for 
disarrange. — C. 



HAWKINS. 133 

that of Psalmanazar ( l ) for its purity and devotion. He 
told many anecdotes of him ; and said he was supposed, 
by his accent, to have been a Gascon ; but that he spoke 
English with the city accent, and coarse enough. He 
for some years spent his evenings at a public-house near 
Old Street, where many persons went to talk with him. 
When Dr. Johnson was asked whether he ever contra- 
dicted Psalmanazar, " I should as soon/' said he, 
<c have thought of contradicting a bishop: " so high did 
he hold his character in the latter part of his life. 
When he was asked whether he ever mentioned For- 
mosa before him, he said, " he was afraid to mention 
even China." 

215. Improvement. 
Johnson was in the habit of visiting Psalmanazar, 
and would frequently adjourn with him from his lodg- 
ings to a neighbouring alehouse, and, in the common 
room, converse with him on subjects of importance. In 
one of these conversations, Johnson took occasion to re- 
mark on the human mind, that it had a necessary 
tendency to improvement, and that it would frequently 
anticipate instruction, and enable ingenious minds to 
acquire knowledge. " Sir," said a stranger that over- 
heard him, ' c that I deny : I am a tailor, and have had 
many apprentices, but never one that could make a coat, 
till I had taken great pains in teaching him." 

216. Garrick 1 s Enunciation. 
He assumed a right of correcting Garrick's enuncia- 
tion, and, by an instance, convinced him that it was 
sometimes erroneous. " You often," said Johnson, 
t€ mistake the emphatical word of a sentence." u Give 
me an instance," said Garrick. ei I cannot," answered 
Johnson, " recollect one; but repeat the Seventh Com- 
mandment." Garrick pronounced it — Ci Thou shall 

(1) TSee a?ite, p. 62.] 
K 3 ■ 



134 JOHNSONIANA. 

not commit adultery." " You are wrong/' said John- 
son : " it is a negative precept, and ought to be pro- 
nounced, " Thou shalt not commit adultery. ( l ) 

217. Warburton. 

When a Scotsman was talking against Warburton, 
Johnson said, he had more literature than had been im- 
ported from Scotland since the days of Buchanan. 
Upon his mentioning other eminent writers of the 
Scots — " These will not do," said Johnson ; " let us 
have some more of your northern lights ; these are 
mere farthing candles." 

To a person who asked a whether he had ever been 
in company with Dr. Warburton," he answered. " 1 
never saw him till one evening, about a week ago, at the 
Bishop of St. Asaph's : at first he looked surlily at 
me ; but after we had been jostled into conversation, he 
took me to a window, asked me some questions, and 
before we parted was so well pleased with me that he 
patted me/' u You always, Sir, preserved a respect for 
him ? " " Yes, and justly ; when as yet I was in no 
favour with the world, he spoke well of me ( 2 ), and I 
hope I never forgot the obligation." 

218. Authors. 
To a lady who signified a great desire to increase 
her acquaintance with authors, conceiving that more 
might be learned from their conversation and manner 
of living, than from their works, " Madam," said he, 
tc the best part of an author will always be found in his 
writings." 

219. Complainers. 
" Complainers," said he, ct are always loud and 
clamorous." 

f J) See ante, Vol. I. p. 193. 

(2) In bis Preface to Shakspeare. — C. 



HAWKINS. 135 

220. Lord Chesterfield's Son. 

Johnson said that he had once seen Mr. Stanhope, 
Lord Chesterfield's son (*), at Dodsley's shop, and was so 
much struck with his awkward manner and appearance, 
that he could not help asking Mr. Dodsley who he 
was. 

221. Fear of Death. 

To his censure of fear ( 2 ) in general, he made, how- 
ever, one exception — with respect to the fear of death, 
timorum maximus : he thought that the hest of us were 
but unprofitable servants, and had much reason to fear. 

222. Br. Birch. 

Of Dr. Birch, Johnson was used to speak in this 
manner : — " Tom is a lively rogue ; he remembers a 
great deal, and can tell many pleasant stories; but a 
pen is to Tom a torpedo, the touch of it benumbs his 
hand and his brain : Tom can talk ; but he is no 
writer." 

223. Lyttelton and the Leasowes. 

Johnson's account of Lord Lyttelton's envy to Shen- 
stone for his improvements in his grounds, &c. was 
confirmed by an ingenious writer. Spence was in the 
house for a fortnight with the Lytteltons before they 
offered to show him Shenstone's place. 

He has been accused of treating Lord Lyttelton 
roughly in his life of him : he assured a friend, how- 
ever, that he kept back a very ridiculous anecdote of 
him, relative to a question he put to a great divine of 
his time. 

224. Public Opinion. 

Dr. Johnson held all authors very cheap that were 
not satisfied with the opinion of the public about them. 
He used to say, that every man who writes thinks he 

(1) [The natural son to whom Lord Chesterfield addressed 
the celebrated Letters on Manners.] 

(2) [See ante, Vol. V. p. 231., and p. 123. of this volume.! 

K 4 



136 JOHNSONIANA. 

can amuse or inform mankind, and they must be the 
best judges of his pretensions. 

225. Puns. 
Though no great friend to puns, he once, by acci- 
dent, made a singular one. A person who affected to 
live after the Greek manner, and to anoint himself with 
oil, was one day mentioned : Johnson, in the course of 
conversation on the singularity of his practice, gave him 
the denomination of this man of Greece (or grease, as 
you please to take it). 

226. Society and Retirement 
He thought worse of the vices of retirement than of 
those of society. 

227. The Law. 
He thought very favourably of the profession of the 
law, and said that the sages thereof, for a long series 
backward, had been friends to religion. Fortescue says, 
that their afternoon's employment was the study of the 
Scriptures. ( J ) 

(l) Lord Coke, in his Institutes, 1. ii. c. 1. s. 85., quotes these 
ancient, as he calls them, verses, recommending a proper dis- 
tribution of the time of a law-student. 

" Sex horas somno, totidem des legibus acquis, 
Quatuor orabis, des epulisque duas; 
Quod superest ultro sacris largire Camaenis." 

Of these Sir William Jones made two versions : — 

" Six hours to sleep, to law's grave study six ; 
Four spend in prayer — the rest on nature fix : " 

rather (he adds), 

" Six hours to law, to soothing slumber seven ; 
Ten to the world allot, and ail to Heaven." 

It is not very clear what nature in the first version means; in the 
second Sir William has shortened his day to twenty- three hours : 
and the general advice " of all to Heaven" destroys the peculiar 
appropriation of a certain period to religious exercises. The fol- 
lowing version, if less poetical, is at least more exact : 

"•Six hours to sleep devote — to law the same; 
Pray four, feast two — the rest the Muses claim," — C 



HAWKINS. 137 

228. The Old English Divines. 

That Johnson owed his excellence as a writer to the 
divines and others of the last century, I can attest. 
Hooker he admired for his logical precision, Sanderson 
for his acuteness, and Taylor for his amazing erudition ; 
Sir Thomas Browne for his penetration, and Cowley for 
the ease and unaffected structure of his periods. The 
tinsel of Sprat disgusted him, and he could but just 
endure the smooth verbosity of Tillotson. Hammond 
and Barrow he thought involved, and of the latter that 
he was unnecessarily prolix. 

229. cc Fiat eocperimentum in corpore vili." 

He was much pleased with the following repartee : 
" Fiat eocperimentum in corpore vili" said a French 
physician to his colleague, in speaking of the disorder 
of a poor man that understood Latin, and who was 
brought into an hospital ; " Corpus non tarn vile est/' 
says the patient, " pro quo Christus ipse non dedignatus 
est moru" 

230. Hume. 

He would never hear Hume mentioned with any 
temper. " A man/' said he, u who endeavoured to 
persuade his friend, who had the stone, to shoot him- 
self!" 

231. Madness. 
He was a great enemy to the present fashionable way 
of supposing worthless and infamous persons mad. 

232. A Scoundrel. 

Dr. Johnson used to say a man was a scoundrel who 
was afraid of any thing. 



138 JOHNSONIANA. 

233. Clarke. — Smalridge. 
He thought of Dr. Clarke, whose sermons he valued 
above all others, that he complied too frequently with 
invitations to dine with persons of high rank, his parish- 
ioners, and spent too much of his time in ceremonious 
visits : differing, in this respect, from his contemporary 
Smalridge, the elegant Favonius of the Tatler, who, in 
the height of his reputation as a preacher, was ever 
ready to visit a sick person in the most obscure alley of 
Westminster. 

234. Biography, 
When accused of mentioning ridiculous anecdotes in 
the c( Lives of the Poets," he said, he should not have 
been an exact biographer if he had omitted them. 
cc The business of such a one," said he, (C is to give a 
complete account of the person whose life he is writing, 
and to discriminate him from all other persons, by any 
peculiarities of character or sentiments 'he may happen 
to have." 

235. Round Numbers. 
" Round numbers," said he, <e are always false." 

236. Friendships* 
He once mentioned to me a saying of Dr. Nicholls, 
and highly commended it ; namely, that it was a point 
of wisdom to form intimacies, and choose for our friends 
only persons of known worth and integrity ; and that 
to do so had been the rule of his life. 

237. Story felling. 
Being once asked, if he ever embellished a story — 
iC No," said he ; " a story is to lead either to the know- 
ledge of a fact or character, and is good for nothing if 
it be not strictly and literally true." 



HAWKINS. 139 

238. Praise. 
He said to me one day, u Garrick, I hear, complains 
that I am the only popular author of his time who has 
exhibited no praise of him in print ; but he is mistaken, 
Akenside has forborne to mention him. Some, indeed, 
are lavish in their applause of all who come within the 
compass of their recollection ; yet he who praises every 
body praises nobody; when both scales are equally 
loaded, neither can preponderate." 

2.3Q. Matrimony. 

He was extremely fond of the company and conver- 
sation of women, and had certainly very correct notions 
as to the basis on which matrimonial connections should 
be formed. He always advised his friends, when they 
were about to marry, to unite themselves to a woman 
of a pious and religious frame of mind. cc Fear of the 
world, and a sense of honour," said he, et may have an 
effect upon a man's conduct and behaviour : a woman 
without religion is without the only motive that in ge- 
neral can incite her to do well." 

When some one asked him for what he should marry, 
he replied, " first, for virtue ; secondly, for wit ; third- 
ly, for beauty ; and fourthly, for money." 

240. Pope. 
In his interview with Lord Marchmont, he told me, 
that his first question was, " What kind of a man was 
Mr. Pope in his conversation ?" His lordship answered, 
cc That if the conversation did not take something of 
in epigrammatic turn, he fell asleep, or perhaps pre- 
tended to be so." 



241. Allegorical Painting, 



241. Allegorical Painting. 
Talking with some persons about allegorical painting, 
he said, u I had rather see the portrait of a aog that I 



140 JOHNSONIANA. 

know, than all the allegorical paintings they can show 
me in the world." 

242. A Lad of Parts. 

He once told me, that being at the house of a friend, 
whose son in his school vacation was come home, the 
father spoke of this child as a lad of pregnant parts, 
and said that he was well versed in the classics, and 
acquainted with history, in the study whereof he took 
great delight. Having this information, Johnson, as a 
test of the young scholar's attainments, put this question 
to him : — " At what time did the heathen oracles 
cease ? " The boy, not in the least daunted, answered, 
" At the dissolution of religious houses." 

243. War. 

He laughed much at Lord Kaimes' opinion that war 
was a good thing occasionally, as so much valour and 
virtue were exhibited in it. " A fire," says Johnson, 
" might as well be thought a good thing ; there is the 
bravery and address of the firemen in extinguishing it ; 
there is much humanity exerted in saving the lives and 
properties of the poor sufferers ; yet," says he, " after 
all this, who can say a fire is a good thing ? " 

244. Preachers. 

Johnson seemed to think it a duty to accept in good 
part the endeavours of all public instructors, however 
meanly qualified for the office, and ever to forbear ex- 
ercising his critical talents on the effusions of men 
inferior in learning and abilities to himself. Probably 
he, on such occasions, recollected the quaint distich of 
Herbert : — 

" The worst have something good; where all want sense, 
God takes the text, and preacheth patience," 



HAWKINS. 141 



245. Music. 



Of music he said, " It is the only sensual pleasure 
without vice." 

246. Tea. 
Speaking one day of tea, he said, <c What a delightful 
beverage must that he that pleases all palates at a time 
when they can take nothing else at breakfast!" 

247. Richard Baxter. 
Of Baxter he entertained a very high opinion, and 
often spoke of him to me as a man of great parts, pro- 
found learning, and exemplary piety. He said of the 
office for the communion, drawn up by him and pro- 
duced at the Savoy conference, that it was one of the 
first compositions of the ritual kind he had ever seen.f 1 ) 

248. Voltaire's Charles XII. 
" The Life of Charles the Twelfth/' by Voltaire, he 
said was one of the finest pieces of history ever written. 

249- Jeremy Taylor. 

At times when he was most distressed, I recom- 
mended to him the perusal of Bishop Taylor's <c Rules 
and Exercises of Holy Living and Dying," and also his 
"Ductor Dubitantium." Of the former, though he 
placed the author at the head of all the divines that 
have succeeded the fathers, he said, that on the reading 
thereof, he had found little more than he had brought 
himself; and, at the mention of the latter, he seemed 
to shrink. 

250. Shemtone. 

To some lady who was praising Shenstone's poems 
very much, and who had an Italian greyhound lying 

(1) It is printed at the end of the first volume of Dr. Ca- 
lamy's Abridgment of Baxter's History of his Life and Times. 



142 JOHNSONIANA. 

by the fire, he said, cc Shenstone holds amongst poets 
the same rank your dog holds amongst dogs : he has 
not the sagacity of the hound, the docility of the 
spaniel, nor the courage of the bull-dog, yet he is still 
a pretty fellow/' 

251 . Plague in London — Nathaniel Hodges. 
With all that asperity of manners with which he has 
been charged, and which kept at a distance many who, 
to my knowledge, would have been glad of an intimacy 
with him, he possessed the affections of pity and com- 
passion in a most eminent degree. In a mixed company, 
of which I was one, the conversation turned on the 
pestilence which raged in London in the year 1665, 
and gave occasion to Johnson to speak of Dr. Nathaniel 
Hodges, who, in the height of that calamity, continued 
in the city, and was almost the only one of his profes- 
sion that had the courage to oppose the endeavours of 
his art to the spreading of the contagion. It was the 
hard fate of this person, a short time after, to die a 
prisoner for debt in Ludgate. Johnson related this 
circumstance to us, with the tears ready to start from 
his eyes, and with great energy said, (C Such a man 
would not have been suffered to perish in these times/ ' 

252. Jortin. 
He was much pleased with Dr. Jortin's Sermons, the 
language of which he thought very elegant ; but thought 
his " Life of Erasmus" a dull book. 

253. Blackmore. 
To a gentleman who expressed himself in disrespectful 
terms of Blackmore, one of whose poetic bulls he hap- 
pened just then to recollect, Dr. Johnson answered, <c I 
hope, Sir, a blunder, after you have heard what I shall 



HAWKINS. 143 

relate, will not be reckoned decisive against a poet's re- 
putation. When I was a young man, I translated 
Addison's Latin poem on the Battle of the Pygmies and 
the Cranes, and must plead guilty to the following 
couplet • 

u Down from the guardian boughs the nests they flung, 
And kill'd the yet unanimated young " 

And yet I trust I am no blockhead. I afterwards 
changed the word kilVd into crush'd." 

254. Watts 8 <c Improvement of the MindJ* 
Watts' s <e Improvement of the Mind" was a very 
favourite book with him : he used to recommend it, as 
he also did " Le Dictionnaire Portatif" of Abbe 
L'Avocat. 

255. Kempis, iC De Imitatione Christi" 
He was, for some time, pleased with Kempis's tract, 
" De Imitatione Christi ;" but at length laid it aside, 
saying, " that the main design of it was to promote 
monastic piety, and inculcate ecclesiastical obedience." 
One sentiment therein he however greatly applauded, 
and I find it adopted by Bishop Taylor, who gives it in 
these words : — i( It is no great matter to live lovingly 
with good-natured, with humble, and meek persons ; 
but he that can do so with the froward, with the wilful, 
and the ignorant, with the peevish and perverse, he 
only hath true charity. Always remembering, that our 
true solid peace, the peace of God, consists rather in 
compliance with others, than in being complied with : 
in suffering and forbearing, rather than in contention 
and victory." 

256. Dr. Hammond. 
He was extremely fond of Dr. Hammond's ( l ) works, 

(1) Henry Hammond, D.D., born in 1605; elected a fellow 
of Magdalen College, Oxford, in 1625 ; canon of Christchurch 



144« JOHNSONIANA. 

and sometimes gave them as a present to young men 
going into orders : he also bought them for the library 
at Streatham. 

257. Mrs. Macaulays <c History!' 
Being asked,, whether he had read Mrs. Macaulay's 
second volume of the " History of England/' — ' ' No, 
Sir/' says he, " nor her first neither." 

258. Churchill. 
Being told that Churchill had abused him under the 
character of Pomposo, in his Ghost, " I always thought," 
said he, " he was a shallow fellow, and I think so still." 

259. Lord Kaimes, 
Johnson thought very well of Lord Kaimes's " Ele- 
ments of Criticism : " of others of his writings he 
thought very indifferently. 

260. Mandeville. 
He thought highly of, and would often commend, 
Mandeville's rt Discourse on Hypochondriac Affections/' 

26l. Cowley. 
In his own judgment of the " Lives of the Poets/' 
Johnson gave the preference to that of Cowley, as con- 
taining a nicer investigation and discrimination of the 
characteristics of wit, than is elsewhere to be found. 

262. Addison s " Cato/' 
He thought Addison's " Cato" the best model of 



1645. He suffered much persecution during the Rebellion, 
and was, it is said, designed for the bishopric of Worcester at 
the Restoration ; but he died a few days before the king's re- 
turn. He was a voluminous writer, but his best known work 
is " A Paraphrase and Annotations on the New Testament," 
which Dr. Johnson recommended to Mr. Boswell. See ante, 
Vol. VI. p. 181. — C. 



HAWKINS. 145 

tragedy we had ; yet he used to say, of all things, the 
most ridiculous would be to see a girl cry at the repre- 
sentation of it. 

263. Religious Poetry. 
Moses Browne, originally a pen-cutter, and after- 
wards a writer in the ec Gentleman's Magazine/' pub- 
lished a series of devout contemplations, called " Sunday 
Thoughts." Johnson, who often expressed his dislike 
of religious poetry, and who, for the purpose of re- 
ligious meditation, seemed to think one day as proper 
as another, read them with cold approbation, and said, 
he had a great mind to write and publish " Monday 
Thoughts." 

264. Abyssinian Bruce. 
He said that when he first conversed with Mr. Bruce, 
the Abyssinian traveller, he was very much inclined to 
believe he had been there ; but that he had afterwards 
altered his opinion . ( ] ) 

265. Government. 
That Johnson was a Tory, he not only never hesi- 
tated to confess, but, by his frequent invectives against 
the Whigs, was forward to proclaim : yet was he not so 
besotted in his notions, as to abet what is called the pa- 
triarchal scheme, as delineated by Sir Robert Filmer 
and other writers on government ; nor, with others of 
a more sober cast, to acquiesce in the opinion that, 
because submission to governors is, in general terms, 
inculcated in the Holy Scriptures, the resistance of 
tyranny and oppression is, in all cases, unlawful : he 
seemed rather to adopt the sentiments of Hooker on the 

(1) [See ante, Vol. V. p. 274.] 
VOL. IX. L 



146 JOHNSONIANA. 

subject, as explained by Hoadly, and, by consequence, 
to look on submission to lawful authority as a moral 
obligation ; he therefore condemned the conduct of 
James the Second during his short reign ; and, had he 
been a subject of that weak and infatuated monarch, 
would, I am persuaded, have resisted any invasion of 
his right, or unwarrantable exertion of power, with the 
same spirit as did the president and fellows of Magdalen 
College, or those conscientious divines, the seven bishops. 
This disposition, as it leads to Whiggism, one would 
have thought might have reconciled him to the memory 
of James's successor, whose exercise of the regal autho- 
rity among us merited better returns than were made 
him ; but, it had no such effect : he never spoke of 
King William but in terms of reproach, and, in his 
opinion of him, seemed to adopt all the prejudices of 
Jacobite bigotry and rancour. 

266. Sir Robert Walpole. 

Of Sir Robert Walpole, notwithstanding that he had 
written against him in the early part of his life, he had 
a high opinion. He said of him, that he was a fine 
fellow, and that his very enemies deemed him so before 
his death : he honoured his memory for having kept 
this country in peace many years, as also for the good- 
ness and placability of his temper ; of which Pulteney, 
Earl of Bath, thought so highly, that, in a conversation 
with Johnson, he said, that Sir Robert was of a temper 
so calm and equal, and so hard to be provoked, that he 
was very sure he never felt the bitterest invectives 
against him for half an hour. 

To the same purpose Johnson related the following 
anecdote, which he said he had from Lord North : — 
Sir Robert having got into his hands some treasonable 
letters of his inveterate enemy, William Shippen, one 
of the heads of the Jacobite faction, he sent for him, 
and burned them before his face. Some time after- 



HAWKINS. H7 

wards, Shippen had occasion to take the oaths to the 
government in the House of Commons, which, while 
he was doing, Sir Robert, who stood next him, and 
knew his principles to be the same as ever, smiled: 
" Egad, Robin," said Shippen, who had observed him 
" that 's hardly fair." 

267. Patriots. — Pulteney. 

To party opposition Dr. Johnson ever expressed great 
aversion ; and, of the pretences of patriots, always 
spoke with indignation and contempt. He partook of 
the short-lived joy that infatuated the public, when Sir 
Robert Walpole ceased to have the direction of the na- 
tional councils, and trusted to the professions of Mr. 
Pulteney and his adherents, who called themselves the 
country-party, that all elections should thenceforward be 
free and uninfluenced, and that bribery and corruption, 
which were never practised but by courtiers and their 
agents, should be no more. A few weeks, nay, a few 
days, convinced Johnson, that what had assumed the 
appearance of patriotism, was personal hatred and in- 
veterate malice in some, and in others, an ambition for 
that power which, when they had got it, they knew not 
how to exercise. A change of men, and in some re- 
spect of measures, took place : Mr. Pulteney's ambition 
was gratified by a peerage ; the wants of his associate? 
were relieved by places, and seats at the public boards ; 
and, in a short time, the stream of government resumed 
its former channel, and ran with a current as even as it 
had ever done. 

Upon this developement of the motives, the views, 
and the consistency of the above-mentioned band of 
patriots, Johnson once remarked to me, that it had 
given more strength to government than all that had 
been written in its defence ; meaning thereby, that it had 
destroyed all confidence in men of that character. 
l 2 



148 JOHNSONIANA. 

268. Johnson and Arkwright. 
His knowledge in manufactures was extensive, and 
his comprehension relative to mechanical contrivances 
was still more extraordinary. The well-known Mr. 
Arkwright pronounced him to he the only person who, 
on a first view, understood both the principle and 
powers of his most complicated piece of machinery. 

269.-4 lazy Dog. 
One day, on seeing an old terrier He asleep by the 
fireside at Streatham, he said, " Presto, you are, if 
possible, a more lazy dog than I am." 

270. Goldsmith's « Traveller:' 
He repeated poetry with wonderful energy and feel- 
ing. He was seen to weep whilst he repeated Gold- 
smith's character of the English in his " Traveller," 
beginning " Stern o'er each bosom, 4*c. ( ] ) 

271. Time. 
He was extremely accurate in his computation of 
time. He could tell how many heroic Latin verses 
could be repeated in such a given portion of it, and was 
anxious that his friends should take pains to form in 
their minds some measure for estimating the lapse of it. 

272. Suspicion. 
Johnson was not apt to judge ill of persons without 
good reasons : an old friend of his used to say, that in 
general he thought too well of mankind. 

273. Latin. 
Johnson spoke Latin with great fluency and elegance. 
He said, indeed, he had taken great pains about it. 

(1) A favourite passage. See ante, Vol, V. p, 85. — C 



i 



HAWKINS 14Q 

274. Education. 
Being asked by Dr. Lawrence, what he thought the 
best system of education, he replied, " School in school 
hours, and home instruction in the intervals." 

275. Mallet. S Hume. — Colman. 
He once expressed these sentiments : — c e I have sel- 
dom met with a man whose colloquial ability exceeded 
that of Mallet. I was but once in Hume's company, 
and then his only attempt at merriment consisted in his 
display of a drawing too indecently gross to have de- 
lighted, even in a brothel. Colman never produced a 
luckier thing than his first Ode in imitation of Gray (*) ; 
a considerable part of it may be numbered among those 
felicities which no man has twice attained." 

276. Johnsons Talk. 
One who had long known Johnson said of him, " In 
general you may tell what the man to whom you are 
speaking will say next : this you can never do of John- 
son : his images, his allusions, his great powers of 
ridicule, throw the appearance of novelty upon the most 
common conversation." 

277. Mr. Thrale s Death-bed. 
He attended Mr. Thrale in his last moments, and 
stayed in the room praying, as is imagined, till he had 
drawn his last breath. i: His servants," said he, 
" would have waited upon him in this awful period, 
and why not his friend ? " 

278. The Tlirales. — Leave-taking. 
The death of Mr. Thrale dissolved the friendship 
between him and Johnson; but it abated not in the 
latter that care for the interests of those whom his 

(1) [" Odes to Obscuritv and Oblivion." See a?ite, Vol. V 
p. 275.] 

L S 



150 JOHNSONIANA. 

friend had left behind him, which he thought himself 
bound to cherish, as a living principle of gratitude. 
The favours he had received from Mr. Thrale were to 
be repaid by the exercise of kind offices towards his 
relict and her children ; and these, circumstanced as 
Johnson was, could only be prudent counsels, friendly 
admonition to the one, and preceptive instruction to the 
others, both which he was ever ready to interpose. 
Nevertheless, it was observed by myself, and other of 
Johnson's friends, that, soon after the decease of Mr. 
Thrale, his visits to Streatham became less and less fre- 
quent, and that he studiously avoided the mention of 
the place or family. It seems that between him and 
the widow there was a formal taking of leave, for I find 
in his diary the following note: — "April 5th, 1783, 
iC I took leave of Mrs. Thrale. I was much moved. I 
had some expostulations with her. She said that she 
was likewise affected. I commended the Thrales with 
great good- will to God. May my petitions have been 
heard!" 

279* Johnson's Charity. 
Almost throughout his life, poverty and distressed 
circumstances seemed to be the strongest of all recom- 
mendations to his favour. When asked by one of his 
most intimate friends, how he could bear to be sur- 
rounded by such necessitous and undeserving people as he 
had about him, his answer was, ec If I did not assist them 
no one else would, and they must be lost for want." 

280. Rapidity of Composition. 
" I wrote/' said Johnson, " the first seventy lines in 
the ' Vanity of Human Wishes/ in the course of one 
morning, in that small house beyond the church at 
Hampstead. The whole number was composed before 
I committed a single couplet to writing. The same 
method I pursued in regard to the Prologue on opening 



HAWKINS. 151 

Drury Lane Theatre. I did not afterwards change 
more than a word in it, and that was done at the re- 
monstrance of Garrick. I did not think his criticism 
just, but it was necessary that he should be satisfied 
with what he was to utter." 

281. Mimicry. — Humour. 
Gesticular mimicry and buffoonery Johnson hated, 

and would often huff GarricK for exercising it in his 
presence ; but of the talent of humour he had an al- 
most enviable portion. To describe the nature of this 
faculty, as he was wont to display it in his hours of 
mirth and relaxation, I must say that it was ever of that 
arch and dry kind, which lies concealed under the ap- 
pearance of gravity, and which acquiesces in an error 
for the purpose of refuting it. 

282. Invitations to Dinner. 
Invitations to dine with those whom he liked he so 

seldom declined, that to a friend of his, he said, cc I 
never but once, upon a resolution to employ myself in 
study, balked an invitation out to dinner, and then I 
stayed at home and did nothing/' 

283. Asperity of Manners. 
There was more asperity in Johnson's manner of 
expression than in his natural disposition; for I have 
heard that, in many instances, and in some with tears 
in his eyes, he has apologised to those whom he had 
offended by contradiction or roughness of behaviour. 

284. Reynolds's Portrait of Johnson. 
The picture of him by Sir Joshua Reynolds, which 
was painted for Mr. Beauclerk, and is now Mr. Lang- 
wn's. and scraped in mezzotinto by Doughty, is ex- 
tremely like him : there is in it that appearance of a 
labouring working mind, of an indolent reposing body, 
l 4 



152 JOHNSONIANA. 

which he had to a very great degree. Indeed, the com- 
mon operations of dressing, shaving, &c. were a toil to 
him : he held the care of the body very cheap. He 
used to say, that a man who rode out for an appetite 
consulted but little the dignity of human nature, 

285. Johnson's last Illness. 

A few days after the remnant of the Ivy -lane Club had 
dined with him, [Teb. 1784.]] Dr. Johnson sent for me, 
and informed me that he had discovered in himself the 
symptoms of a dropsy ; and, indeed, his very much in- 
creased bulk, and the swollen appearance of his legs, 
seemed to indicate no less. He told me, that he was 
desirous of making a will, and requested me to be one 
of his executors : upon my consenting, he gave me to 
understand that he meant to make a provision for his 
servant, Frank, of about 701. a year for his life, and 
concerted with me a plan for investing a sum sufficient 
for the purpose : at the same time he opened to me the 
state of his circumstances, and the amount of what he 
had to dispose of. 

In a visit which I made him in a few days, in conse- 
quence of a very pressing request to see me, I found 
him labouring under great dejection of mind. He bade 
me draw near him, and said he wanted to enter into a 
serious conversation with me ; and, upon my expressing 
a willingness to join in it, he, with a look that cut me to 
the heart, told me that he had the prospect of death 
before him, and that he dreaded to meet his Saviour. Q) 
I could not but be astonished at such a declaration, a/id 
advised him, as I had done once before, to reflect on the 
course of his life, and the services he had rendered to 
the cause of religion and virtue, as well by his example 
as his writings; to which he answered, that he had 

(1) This, and other expressions of the like kind, which he 
uttered to me, should put to silence the idle reports that he 
dreaded annihilation. — H. 



HAWKINS. 15v5 

written as a philosopher, but had not lived like one. In 
the estimation of his offences, he reasoned thus : " Every 
man knows his own sins, and also what grace he has 
resisted. But, to those of others, and the circumstances 
under which they were committed, he is a stranger : he 
is, therefore, to look on himself as the greatest sinner that 
he knows of.'^ 1 ) At the conclusion of this argument, 
which he strongly enforced, he uttered this passionate 
exclamation, — u Shall I, who have been a teacher of 
others, myself be a castaway ? " 

Much to the same purpose passed between us in this 
and other conversations that I had with him ; in all 
which I could not but wonder, as much at the freedom 
with which he opened his mind, and the compunction 
he seemed to feel for the errors of his past life, as I did 
at his making choice of me for his confessor, knowing 
full well how meanly qualified I was for such an 
office. 

It was on a Thursday ( 2 ) that I had this conversation 
with him ; and here, let not the supercilious lip of 
scorn protrude itself, while I relate that, he declared his 
intention to devote the whole of the next day to fasting, 
humiliation, and such other devotional exercises as 
became a man in his situation. On the Saturday fol- 
lowing I made him a visit, and, upon entering his 
room, observed in his countenance such a serenity, as 
indicated that some remarkable crisis of his disorder had 
produced a change in his feelings. He told me that, 
pursuant to the resolution he had mentioned, he had 
spent the preceding day in an abstraction from ali 
worldly concerns ; that, to prevent interruption, he had, 

(1)1 find the above sentiment in " Law's Serious Call to a 
Devout and Holy Life," a book which Johnson was very con- 
versant with, and often commended. — H. 

(2) It appears from Johnson's own letters, that the event 
itself took place on Thursday, 19th February. See ante, Vol. 
VIII. p. 255.- C. 



154 JOHNSONIANA. 

in the morning, ordered Frank not to admit any one to 
him ; and, the hetter to enforce the charge, had added 
these awful words, " For your master is preparing him- 
self to die." He then mentioned to me. that, in the 
course of this exercise, he found himself relieved from 
that disorder which had been growing on him, and was 
become very oppressing, the dropsy, by a gradual 
evacuation of water to the amount of twenty pints, 
a like instance whereof he had never before experienced ; 
and asked me what I thought of it. 

I was well aware of the lengths that superstition and 
enthusiasm will lead men, and how ready some are to 
attribute favourable events to supernatural causes, and 
said, that it might savour of presumption to say that, in 
this instance, God had wrought a miracle ; yet, as 
divines recognise certain dispensations of his providence, 
recorded in the Scripture by the denomination of returns 
of prayer, and his omnipotence is now the same as 
ever, I thought it would be little less than criminal 
to ascribe his late relief to causes merely natural, and 
that the safer opinion was, that he had not in vain 
humbled himself before his Maker. He seemed to 
acquiesce in all that I said on this important subject ; 
and, several times, while I was discoursing with him, 
cried out, " It is wonderful, very wonderful ! " 

His zeal for religion, as manifested in his writings 
and conversation, and the accounts extant that attest his 
piety, have induced the enemies to his memory to tax 
him with superstition. To that charge I oppose his 
behaviour on this occasion, and leave it to the judgment 
of sober and rational persons, whether such an un- 
expected event as that above mentioned would not have 
prompted a really superstitious man to some more 
passionate exclamation than that it was " wonderful." ( ) 

(1) Doubtless there are men who look upon all religious ex- 
ercises as superstition, and upon prayer and other acts of devo- 
tion as evidences of a weak mind. These say, that reason is a 



HAWKINS. 155 

After the declaration he had made of his intention to 
provide for his servant Frank, and before his going into 
the country,, I had frequently pressed him to make 
a will; and had gone so far as to make a draft of one, 
with blanks for the names of the executors and residuary 
legatee, and directing in what manner it was to be 
executed and attested ; but he was exceedingly averse 
to this business ; and, while he was in Derbyshire, 
I repeated my solicitations, for this purpose, by letters. 
When he arrived in town, he had done nothing in it, 
and, to what I formerly said, I now added, that he had 
never mentioned the disposal of the residue of his 
estate, which, after the purchase of an annuity for 
Frank, would be something considerable, and that 
he would do well to bequeath it to his relations. 
His answer was, " I care not what becomes of the 
residue." A few days after, it appeared that he haxl 
executed the draft, the blanks remaining, with all the 
solemnities of a real will. I could get him no farther ; 
and thus, for some time, the matter rested. 

His complaints still increasing, I continued press- 
ing him to make a will ; but he still procrastinated that 
business. On the 27th of November, in the morning, 
I went to his house, with a purpose still farther to urge 
him not to give occasion, by dying intestate, for liti- 
gation among his relations ; but finding that he was 
gone to pass the day with the Rev. Mr. Strahan, at 
Islington, I followed him thither, and found there our 
old friend Mr. Ryland, and Mr. Hoole. Upon my sitting 

sufficient rule of action, and that God needs not to be supplicated, 
nor requires our thanks. Of this class of individuals I take 
Annet to have been one : he who wrote against the miracles, 
and was some years ago convicted of blasphemy, and sentenced 
to imprisonment. The wife of Jackson, the bookseller, in Clare 
Court, Drury Lane, once told me, that this man would often 
call in at their shop ; and if he happened to see a Bible lying on 
the counter, would entreat her to take it away, for that he could 
not bear the sight of it. — H. 



156 JOHNSONIANA. 

down, he said, that the prospect of the change he was 
about to undergo, and the thought of meeting his 
Saviour, troubled him, but that he had hope that he 
would not reject him. 

I then began to discourse with him about his will, 
and the provision for Frank, till he grew angry. He 
told me, that he had signed and sealed the paper I left 
him ; but that, said I, had blanks in it, which, as it 
seems, you have not filled up with the names of the ex- 
ecutors. " You should have filled them up yourself," 
answered he. I replied, that such an act would have 
looked as if I meant to prevent his choice of a fitter 
person. ec Sir," said he, " these minor virtues are not 
to be exercised in matters of such importance as this." 
At length he said, that on his return home he would 
send for a clerk, and dictate a will to him. " You will 
then," said I, c ' be inops consilii ; rather do it now. With 
Mr. Strahan's permission, I will be his guest at dinner ; 
and, if Mr. Hoole will please to hold the pen, I will, in 
a few words, make such a disposition of your estate as 
you shall direct." To this he assented ; but such a pa- 
roxysm of the asthma seized him, as prevented our going 
on. As the fire burned up, he found himself relieved, 
and grew cheerful. " The fit," said he, " was very 
sharp ; but I am now easy." 

After I had dictated a few lines, I told him, that the 
ancient form of wills contained a profession of the faith 
of the testator ; and that he being a man of eminence 
for learning and parts, it would afford an illustrious 
example, and well become him, to make such an explicit 
declaration of his belief, as might obviate all suspicions 
that he was any other than a Christian. He thanked 
me for the hint, and, calling for paper, wrote on a 
slip, that I had in my hand and gave him, the follow- 
ing words : — " I humbly commit to the infinite and 
eternal goodness of Almighty God, my soul polluted with 
many sins ; but, as I hope, purified by repentance, and 



HAWKINS. 157 

redeemed, as 1 trust, by the death of Jesus Christ ( } ) ; " 
and, returning it to me, said, <( This I commit to your 
custody/' 

Upon my calling on him for directions to proceed, 
he told me that his father, in the course of his trade of 
a bookseller, had become bankrupt, and that Mr. 
William Innys had assisted him with money or credit 
to continue his business. ee This," said he, " I con- 
sider as an obligation on me to be grateful to his de- 
scendants, and I therefore mean to give 200/. to his 
representative. " He then meditated a devise of his 
house at Lichfield to the corporation of that city for a 
charitable use ; but, it being freehold, he said, " I can- 
not live a twelvemonth, and the last statute of mortmain 
stands in the way : I must, therefore, think of some 
other disposition of it." His next consideration was, a 
provision for Frank, concerning the amount whereof I 
found he had been consulting Dr. Brocklesby, to whom 
he had put this question, " What would be a proper an- 
nuity to bequeath to a favourite servant ? " The doctor 
answered, that the circumstances of the master were the 
truest measure ; and that, in the case of a nobleman, 50/. 
a year was deemed an adequate reward for many years' 
faithful service. " Then shall I" said Johnson, " be 
nobilissimus ; for I mean to leave Frank 70/. a year, and 
I desire you to tell him so." And now, at the making 
of the will, a devise, equivalent to such a provision, 
was therein inserted. The residue of his estate and 
effects, which took in, though he intended it not, the 
house at Lichfield, he bequeathed to his executors, in 

(1) The will of the other great luminary of that age, Mr. 
Burke, is throughout strikingly characteristic, and was no doubt 
chiefly drawn up by himself. Those who revere his memory 
will read with satisfaction the opening declaration. " First, ac- 
cording to the ancient, good, and laudable custom, of which my 
heart and understanding recognise the propriety, I bequeath my 
soul to God, hoping for his mercy through the only merits of 
pur Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ." — Marklanix 



158 JOHNSONIANA. 

trust for a religious association ; which it is needless to 
describe. 

Having executed the will with the necessary form- 
alities, he would have come home ; but being pressed by 
Mr. and Mrs. Strahan to stay, he consented, and we all 
dined together. Towards the evening he grew cheerful ; 
and I having promised to take him in my coach, Mr. 
Strahan and Mr. Ryland would accompany him home. 
In the way thither he appeared much at ease, and told 
stories. At eight I set him down, and Mr. Strahan 
and Mr. Ryland betook themselves to their respective 
homes. 

Sunday, Nov. 28th. I saw him about noon : he was 
dozing ; but waking, he found himself in a circle of his 
friends. Upon opening his eyes, he said, that the pros- 
pect of his dissolution was very terrible to him, and ad- 
dressed himself to us all, in nearly these words : " You 
see the state in which I am ; conflicting with bodily 
pain and mental distraction : while you are in health 
and strength, labour to do good, and avoid evil, if ever 
you hope to escape the distress that now oppresses me." 

A little while after, — " I had, very early in my life, 
the seeds of goodness in me : I had a love of virtue, 
and a reverence for religion ; and these, I trust, have 
brought forth in me fruits meet for repentance ;. and, 
if I have repented as I ought, I am forgiven. I have, 
at times, entertained a loathing of sin and of myself, 
particularly at the beginning of this year, when I had 
the prospect of death before me ; and this has not 
abated when my fears of death have been less ; and, 
at these times, I have had such rays of hope shot into 
my soul, as have almost persuaded me that I am in a 
state of reconciliation with God." 

29th. Mr. Langton, who had spent the evening 
with him, reported, t^at his hopes were increased, and 
that he was much cheered upon being reminded of the 
general tendency of his writings, and of his example. 



HAWKINS. 159 

30th. I saw him in the evening, and found him 
cheerful. Was informed that he had, for his dinner, 
eaten heartily of a French duck pie and a pheasant. 

Dec. 1. He was busied in destroying papers. Gave 
to Mr. Langton and another person ( ] ), to fair- copy, 
some translations of the Greek epigrams, which he had 
made in the preceding nights, and transcribed the next 
morning, and they began to work on them. 

3d. Finding his legs continue to swell, he signified 
to his physicians a strong desire to have them scarified ; 
but they, unwilling to put him to pain, and fearing a 
mortification, declined advising it. He afterwards con- 
sulted his surgeon, and he performed the operation on 
one leg. 

4th. I visited him : the scarification made yester- 
day in his leg appeared to have had little effect. He 
said to me, that he was easier in his mind, and as fit to 
die at that instant as he could be a year hence. He re- 
quested me to receive the sacrament with him on 
Sunday, the next day. Complained of great weakness, 
and of phantoms that haunted his imagination. 

5th. Being Sunday, I communicated with him and 
Mr. Langton, and other of his friends, as many as nearly 
filled the room. Mr. Strahan, who was constant in his 
attendance on him throughout his illness, performed the 
office. Previous to reading the exhortation, Johnson 
knelt, and, with a degree of fervour that I had never 
been witness to before, uttered the following most elo- 
quent and energetic prayer : — 

" Almighty and most merciful Father, I am now, as to 
human eyes it seems, about to commemorate, for the last time, 
the death of thy son Jesus Christ, our Saviour and Redeemer, 
Grant, O Lord, that my whole hope and confidence may be in 
his merits and in thy mercy : forgive and accept my late con- 
version ; enforce and accept my imperfect repentance ; make 

(1) Young Mr. Desmoulins C. 



160 JOHNSONIANA. 

this commemoration of him available to the confirmation of my 
faith, the establishment of my hope, and the enlargement of my 
charity ; and make the death of thy son Jesus effectual to my 
redemption. Have mercy upon me, and pardon the multitude 
of my offences. Bless my friends : have mercy upon all men. 
Support me by the grace of thy Holy Spirit in the days of weak- 
ness, and at the hour of death, and receive me, at my death, to 
everlasting happiness, for the sake of Jesus Christ. — Amen." 

Upon rising from his knees, after the office was con- 
cluded, he said, that he dreaded to meet God in a state 
of idiocy, or with opium in his head ; and, that having 
now communicated with the effects of a dose upon him, 
he doubted if his exertions were the genuine operations 
of his mind, and repeated from Bishop Taylor this sen- 
timent, " That little that has been omitted in health can 
be done to any purpose in sickness." ( ! ) 

While he was dressing and preparing for this so- 
lemnity, an accident happened which went very near to 
disarrange his mind. He had mislaid, and was very 
anxious to find a paper that contained private instruc- 
tions to his executors ; and myself, Mr. Strahan, Mr. 
Langton, Mr. Hoole, Frank, and I believe some others 
that were about him, went into his bed-chamber to seek 
it. In our search, I laid my hands on a parchment- 
covered book, into which I imagined it might have been 
slipped. Upon opening the book, I found it to be 
meditations and reflections, in Johnson's own hand- 
writing ; and having been told a day or two before by 

(1) He very much admired, and often in the course of 
his illness recited, from the conclusion of old Isaac Walton's 
Life of Bishop Sanderson, the following pathetic request : — 
" Thus this pattern of meekness and primitive innocence 
changed this for a better life : — ' tis now too late to wish that 
mine may be like his : for I am in the eighty-fifth year of my 
age, and God knows it hath not : but, I most humbly beseech 
Almighty God, that my death may ; and 1 do as earnestly beg, 
that, if any reader shall receive any satisfaction from this very 
plain, and as true, relation, he will be so charitable as to say, 
Amen.' ? — H. 



HAWKINS. 161 

Franks that a person ( J ) formerly intimately connected 
with his master, a joint proprietor of a newspaper, well 
known among the booksellers, and of whom Mrs. 
Williams once told me she had often cautioned him to 
beware ; I say, having been told that this person had 
lately been very importunate to get access to him, indeed 
to such a degree as that, when he was told that the doc- 
tor was not to be seen, he would push his way up stairs ; 
and having stronger reasons than I need here mention, 
to suspect that this man might find and make an ill use 
of the book, I put it, and a less of the same kind, into 
my pocket ; at the same time telling those around me, 
and particularly Mr. Langton and Mr. Strahan, that I 
had got both, with my reasons for thus securing them. 
After the ceremony was over, Johnson took me aside, 
and told me that I had a book of his in my pocket ; I 
answered that I had two, and that to prevent their falling 
into the hands of a person who had attempted to force 
his way into the house, I had done as I conceived a 
friendly act, but not without telling his friends of it, 
and also my reasons. He then asked me what ground 
I had for my suspicion of the man I mentioned : 1 told 
him his great importunity to get admittance ; and 
farther, that immediately after a visit which he made me, 
in the year 1775, I missed a paper of a public nature, 
and of great importance ; and that a day or two after, 
and before it could be put to its intended use, I saw it 
in the newspapers. ( 2 ) 

(1) Mr. George Steevens. See ante, Vol. VIII. p. 406. — C. 

(2) As I take no pleasure in the disgrace of others, I regret 
the necessity I am under of mentioning these particulars : my 
reason for it is, that the transaction which so disturbed him may 
possibly be better known than the motives that actuated me at 
the time. — Hawkins. — Miss Hawkins's Memoirs, vol. i. 
p, 264., tells this story in the same way, supplies Steevens's name, 
and insists on the same justification, which would be quite incon- 
clusive, even if the fact on which the suspicion against Steevens 

VOL. IX. M 



162 JOHNSONIANA. 

At the mention of this circumstance, Johnson 
paused ; but recove ring himself, said, i( You should not 
have laid hands on the book ; for had I missed it, and 
not known you had it, I should have rBared for my 
book, as Othello did for his handkerchief, and probably 
have run mad." 

I gave him time, till the next day, to compose him- 
self, and then wrofc^ him a letter, apologising, and 
assigning at large the reasons for my conduct ; and re- 
ceived a verbal answer by Mr. Langton, which, were I 
to repeat it, would render me suspected of inexcusable 
vanity Q) ; it concluded with these words, " If I was 
not satisfied with this, I must be a savage." 

7th. I again visited him. Before my departure, 
Dr. Brocklesby came in, and, taking him by the wrist, 
Johnson gave him a look of great contempt, and ridi- 
culed the judging of his disorder by the pulse. He 
complained, that the sarcocele had again made its ap- 
pearance, and asked if a puncture would not relieve him, 
as it had done the year before ? The doctor answered, 
that it might, but that his surgeon was the best judge 
of the effect of such an operation. Johnson, upon this, 
said, " How many men in a year die through the timi- 
dity of those whom they consult for health ! I want 
length of life, and you fear giving me pain, which I 
care not for." 

8th. I visited him with Mr. Langton, and found 



was grounded were true ; for the purloined paper was only a 
copy of an address from the Middlesex magistrates to the king 
(which was, from its very nature, destined for publication). 
And after all, there was no other proof that Steevens had taken 
this paper, than that it appeared in the St. James's Chronicle the 
day after Steevens had made a visit at Sir John's. Hawkins's 
act was unjustifiable, and the defence frivolous. It is observable, 
that there was no allusion to these circumstances in the Jirst 
edition of Hawkins's work. — C. 

(I) See ante Vol. VI 1 1 p. 407.— C. 



HAWKINS. 163 

him dictating to Mr. Strahan another will^), the former 
being, as he had said at the time of making it, a tem- 
porary one. On our entering the room, he said, " God 
bless you both/' I arrived just time enough to direct 
the execution, and also the attestation of it. After he 
had published it, he desired Mr, Strahan to say the 
Lord's Prayer, which he did, all of us joining. John- 
son, after it, uttered, extempore, a few pious ejacu- 
lations. 

9th. 1 saw him in the evening, and found him 
dictating to Mr. Strahan a codicil to the will he had 
made the evening before. I assisted them in it, and 
received from the testator a direction, to insert a devise 
to his executors of the house at Lichfield, to be sold for 
the benefit of certain of his relations, a bequest of 
sundry pecuniary and specific legacies, a provision for 
the annuity of 70/. for Francis, and, after all, a devise 
of all the rest, residue, and remainder of his estate and 
effects, to his executors, in trust for the said Francis 
Barber, his executors and administrators ; and having 
dictated accordingly, Johnson executed and published it 
as a codicil to his will. ( 2 ) 

He was now so weak as to be unable to kneel, and 
lamented that he must pray sitting ; but, with an effort, 
he placed himself on his knees, while Mr. Strahan re- 
peated the Lord's Prayer. During the whole of the 

(1) There seems something odd in this affair of the wiJLL 
Why did Johnson, after employing Sir J. Hawkins, a profes- 
sional and in every other respect a proper person to draw up his 
will, throw it aside, and dictate another to a young clergyman ? 
Had Sir J. Hawkins attempted to thwart the testator's intentions, 
which he tells us he disapproved of? or was this change the re- 
sult of the scene of the 5th about the secreted books ? In any 
case, it may have tended to produce that unfavourable temper 
towards Dr. Johnson which tinges the whole, and certainly dis- 
colours some passages of Sir J. Hawkins's book, — G. 

(2) How much soever I approve of the practice of rewarding 
the fidelity of servants, I cannot but think that, in testamentary 
«Uspo«tions in their favour, some discretion ought to be exercised z 

M 9. 



164< JOHNSONIANA. 

evening he was much composed and resigned. Being 
become very weak and helpless, it was thought necessary 
that a man should watch with him all night ; and one 
was found in the neighbourhood, who, for half a crown 
a night, undertook to sit up with and assist him. 
When the man had left the room, he, in the presence 
and hearing of Mr. Strahan and Mr. Langton, asked me 
where I meant to bury him. I answered, doubtless, in 
Westminster Abbey : " If," said he, " my executors 
think it proper to mark the spot of my interment by a 
stone, let it be so placed as to protect my body from 
injury." I assured him it should be done. Before my 
departure, he desired Mr. Langton to put into my hands 
money to the amount of upwards of 100/. with a direc- 
tion to keep it till called for. 



and that, in scarce any instance, they are to be preferred to those 
who are allied to the testator either in blood or by affinity. Of 
the merits of this servant, a judgment may be formed from what 
I shall hereafter have occasion to say of him. It was hinted to 
me many years ago, by his master, that he was a loose fellow ; 
and I learned from others, that, after an absence from his 
service of some years, he married. In his search of a wife, he 
picked up one of those creatures with whom, in the disposal of 
themselves, no contrariety of colour is an obstacle. It is said, 
that soon after his marriage he became jealous, and, it may be 
supposed, that he continued so, till, by presenting him with a 
daughter of her own colour, his wife put an end to all his doubts 
on that score. Notwithstanding which, Johnson, in the excess 
of indiscriminating benevolence, about a year before his death, 
took the wife and her two children into his house, and made them 
a part of his family ; and, by the codicil to his will, made a dis- 
position in his favour, to the amount in value of near fifteen 
hundred pounds. — Hawkins Several small causes contri- 
buted to make Sir J. Hawkins dislike Barber ; who, in the kind 
of feud and rivalry between Sir John and Mr. Boswell, sided 
with the latter, and communicated to him the papers to which 
he, as residuary legatee, became entitled. It is painful to see 
in a man of Sir J. Hawkins's station, such rancour as prompted 
the imputation made in the foregoing note against the poor 
woman, Barber's wife, whose moral conduct, whatever it may 
have been, had surely nothing to do with Sir John Hawkins's 
squabbles with her husband. — C. 



HAWKINS. 165 

10th. This day at noon I saw him again. He said 
to me. that the male nurse to whose care I had com- 
mitted him was unfit for the office. " He is/' said he, 
*' an idiot, as awkward as a turnspit just put into the 
wheel, and as sleepy as a dormouse." Mr. Cruikshank 
came into the room, and looking on his scarified leg, 
saw no sign of a mortification. 

11th. At noon, I found him dozing, and would not 
disturb him. 

12th, Saw him again ; found him very weak, and, 
as he said, unable to pray. 

13th, At noon I called at the house, but went not 
into his room, being told that he was dozing. I was 
further informed by the servants that his appetite was 
totally gone, and that he could take no sustenance. At 
eight in the evening of the same day, word was brought 
me by Mr. Sastres, to whom, in his last moments, he 
uttered these words, c Jam moriturus,' that at a quarter 
past seven, he had, without a groan, or the least sign 
of pain or uneasiness, yielded his last breath. 

At eleven, the same evening, Mr. Langton came to 
me, and, in an agony of mind, gave me to understand, 
that our friend had wounded himself in several parts of 
the body. I was shocked at the news ; but, upon 
being told that he had not touched any vital part, was 
easily able to account for an action, which would else 
have given us the deepest concern. The fact was, that 
conceiving himself to be full of water, he had done that, 
which he had so often solicited his medical assistants to 
do, — made two or three incisions in his lower limbs, 
vainly hoping for some relief from the flux that might 
follow. 

Early the next morning, Frank came to me; and, 
being desirous of knowing all the particulars of this 
transaction, I interrogated him very strictly concerning 
it, and received from him answers to the following 
effect : — 

m3 



166 JOHNSONIANA. 

That j at eight in the morning of the preceding day, 
upon going into the bedchamber, his master, being in 
bed, ordered him to open a cabinet, and give him a 
drawer in it ; that he did so, and that out of it his 
master took a case of lancets, and choosing one of them, 
would have conveyed it into the bed, which Frank and 
a young man that sat up with him seeing, they seized 
his hand, and entreated him not to do a rash action : 
he said he would not ; but drawing his hand under the 
bed-clothes, they saw his arm move. Upon this they 
turned down the clothes, and saw a great effusion of 
blood, which soon stopped ; that soon after, he got at a 
pair of scissors that lay in a drawer by him, and plunged 
them deep in the calf of each leg ; that immediately 
they sent for Mr. Cruikshank and the apothecary, and 
they, or one of them, dressed the wounds ; that he then 
fell into that dozing which carried him off; that it was 
conjectured he^ost eight or ten ounces of blood ; and 
that this effusion brought on the dozing, though his 
pulse continued firm till three o'clock. 

That this act was not done to hasten Q) his end, but 
to discharge the water that he conceived to be in him, 
I have not the least doubt. A dropsy was his disease ; 
he looked upon himself as a bloated carcass ; and, to 
attain the power of easy respiration, would have under- 
gone any degree of temporary pain. He dreaded 
neither punctures nor incisions, and, indeed, defied the 
trochar and the lancet; he had often reproached his 
physicians and surgeon with cowardice ; and when Mr. 
Cruikshank scarified his leg, he cried out, cc Deeper, 
deeper ; I will abide the consequence : you are afraid 

(1) The clumsy solemnity with which Hawkins thinks it 
necessary to defend Dr. Johnson from the suspicion of endea- 
vouring to shorten his life by an act manifestly, avowedly, and 
even passionately meant to prolong it, is certainly very offensive; 
but it hardly, I think, justifies Mr. Boswell's suspicions (see 
ante, Vol. VIII. p. 399.), that there was some malevolence at 
the bottom of the defence. — C. 



HAWKINS. 167 

of your reputation, but that is nothing to me." To 
those about him he said, " You all pretend to love me, 
but you do not love me so well as I myself do." 

I have been thus minute in regarding the particulars 
of his last moments, because I wished to attract atten- 
tion to the conduct of this great man, under the most 
trying circumstances human nature is subject to. Many 
persons have appeared possessed of more serenity of 
mind in this awful scene ; some have remained un- 
moved at the dissolution of the vital union ; and it may 
be deemed a discouragement from the severe practice of 
religion, that Dr. Johnson, whose whole life was a prepar- 
ation for his death, and a conflict with natural infirmity, 
was disturbed with terror at the prospect of the grave. (*) 
Let not this relax the circumspection of any one. It 
is true, that natural firmness of spirit, or the confidence 
of hope, may buoy up the mind to the last ; but, how- 
ever heroic an undaunted death may appear, it is not 
what we should pray for. As Johnson lived the life 
of the righteous, his end was that of a Christian ; he 
strictly fulfilled the injunction of the apostle, to work 
out his salvation with fear and trembling ; and though 
his doubts and scruples were certainly very distressing 
to himself, they give his friends a pious hope, that he 
who added to almost all the virtues of Christianity that 
religious humility which its great teacher inculcated, 
will, in the fulness of time, receive the reward promised 
to a patient continuance in well-doing. 

(1) Hawkins seems to confound two different periods. At 
the first appearance of danger. Dr. Johnson exhibited great, and 
perhaps gloomy anxiety, which, however, under the gradual 
effect of religious contemplations and devotional exercises, gave 
way to more comfortable hopes suggested by a lively faith in 
the propitiatory merits of his Redeemer. In this tranquillising 
disposition the last days of his life seem to have been passed, and 
in this Christian confidence it is believed that he died. — C. 



H <* 



1 68 JOHNSONIANA. 



Part III. 

ANECDOTES OF DR. JOHNSON, 
BY THOMAS TYERS, ESQ. (*) 

[Published in 1785.1 



28b\ Christopher Smart, 
Christopher Smart was at first well received by 
Johnson. I owe my acquaintance with him, which 
lasted thirty years, to the introduction of that hard. 
Johnson, whose hearing was not always good, understood 
Smart to call me by the name of Thyer, that eminent 
scholar, librarian of Manchester, and a nonjuror. This 
mistake was rather beneficial than otherwise to me. John- 
son had been much indisposed all that day, and repeated 
a psalm he had just translated, during his affliction, into 
Latin verse, and did not commit it to paper. For so re- 
tentive was his memory, that he could always recover 
whatever he lent to that faculty. Smart, in return, re- 

(l) Mr. Tyers very modestly calls his pamphlet a Sketch; 
and he certainly writes, as Mr. Boswell says, in a careless and de- 
sultory style ; but there seems, on examination, no reason to 
doubt the accuracy of his facts ; indeed, all the other biographers 
have either borrowed from Tyers, or have told the same stories 
in the same way as he has done, and thus vouched for his gene- 
ral accuracy. — C. — [For Boswell's account of " Tom Tyers, 
as Johnson always called him, see ante, Vol. VII. p. 156. He 
is the " Tom Restless " of the 48th « Idler." See ante, VoL 
III. p. 116.] 



TYERS. 169 

cited some of his own Latin compositions. He had 
translated with success, and to Mr. Pope's satisfaction, 
his " St. Cecilian Ode." 

287. Music. — Painting. 
Though Johnson composed so harmoniously in Latin 
and English, he had no ear for music ; and though he 
lived in such habits of intimacy with Sir Joshua 
Reynolds, and once intended to have written the lives 
of the painters, he had no eye, nor perhaps taste, for a 
picture or a landscape. 

288. Reading. 
Johnson preferred conversation to books ; but when 
driven to the refuge of reading by being left alone, he 
then attached himself to that amusement. By his 
innumerable quotations, one would suppose, that he must 
have read more books than any man in England ; but 
he declared that supposition was a mistake in his favour. 
He owned he had hardly read a book through. Church- 
hill used to say, having heard perhaps of his confession, 
as a boast, that <c if Johnson had only read a few books, 
he could not be the author of his own works." His 
opinion, however, was, that he who reads most, has the 
chance of knowing most ; but he declared, that the 
perpetual task of reading was as bad as the slavery in 
the mine, or the labour at the oar. 

289. Greek. 
He owned that many knew more Greek than himself; 
but his grammar, he said, would show that he had once 
taken pains. Sir William Jones, one of the most en- 
lightened of the sons of men, as Johnson described him, 
has often declared, that he knew a great deal of 
Greek, (i) 

(l) [On the subject of Johnson's skill in Greek, see ante* 
Vol. VIII. p. 389.f 



170 JOHNSONIANA. 

290. Churchill. — Cock Lane Ghost. 

Churchill challenged Johnson to combat ; satire the 
weapon. Johnson never took up the gauntlet or replied ; 
for he thought it unbecoming him to defend himself 
against an author who might be resolved to have the 
last word. He was content to let his enemies feed upon 
him as long as they could. I have heard Churchill 
declare, that he thought Johnson's poems of c London,' 
and the ' Vanity of Human Wishes/ full of admirable 
verses, and that all his compositions were diamonds of 
the first water ; but he wanted a subject for his pen 
and for raillery, and so introduced Pomposo into his 
descriptions ; " for, with other wise folks, he sat up 
with the Ghost." 

291. Tea. 

Come when you would, early or late (for he desired 
to be called from bed, when a visitor was at the door), 
the tea-table was sure to be spread, <c TE veniente die, 
TE decedente." With tea he cheered himself in the 
morning ; with tea he solaced himself in the evening ; 
for in these, or in equivalent words, he expressed 
himself in a printed letter to Jonas Han way (*), who 
had just told the public, that tea was the ruin of the 
nation, and of the nerves of every one who drank it. 
The pun upon his favourite liquor he heard with a 
smile. 

292. Streatham. — Mrs. Thrale. 

Johnson formed at Streatham a room for a library, 
and increased by his recommendation the number of 
books. Here he was to be found (himself a library), 
when a friend called upon him ; and by him the friend 
was sure to be introduced to the dinner-table, which 

(1) [Johnson, in his review of Hanway's "Essay on Tea," 
describes himself as " a hardened and shameless tea-drinker, 
whose kettle has scarcely time to cool ; who with tea amuses the 
evening, with tea solaces the midnight, and with tea welcomes 
the morning." See ante, Vol. II. p. 67.] 



TYERS. 171 

Mrs. Thrale knew how to spread with the utmost plenty 
and elegance ; and which was often adorned with such 
guests, that to dine there was epulis accumbere divum. 
Of Mrs. Thrale, if mentioned at all, less cannot be said, 
than that, in one of the latest opinions of Dr. Johnson, 
ec if she was not the wisest woman in the world, she 
was undoubtedly one of the wittiest." Besides a na- 
tural vivacity in conversation, she had reading enough, 
and the iC gods had made her poetical." Her poem of 
" The Three Warnings " (the subject she owned not 
to be original) is highly interesting and serious, and 
literally comes home to every body's business and 
bosom. She took, or caused such care to be taken, of 
Johnson, during an illness of continuance, that Gold- 
smith told her, " he owed his recovery to her attention." 
She moreover taught him to lay up something of his 
income every year. 

293. The Dictionary — and Rambler. 
During the printing of his Dictionary, the Ramblers 
came out periodically ; for he could do more than one 
thing at a time. He declared, that he wrote them by 
way of relief from his application to his Dictionary, and 
for the reward. He told me, that he had no expect- 
ation they would have been so much read and admired. 
What was amusement to him was instruction to others. 
Goldsmith declared, that a system of morals might be 
drawn from these essays : this idea has been taken up 
and executed by a publication in an alphabetical series 
of moral maxims. (*) 

294. Levetis Epitaph. 
His dependant, Levett, died suddenly under his roof. 
He preserved his name from oblivion, by writing an 
epitaph for him ( 2 ), which shows that his poetical fire 

(1) [" The Beauties of Johnson." See ante. Vol. I. p. 25a J 

(2) [See ante, Vol. VIII. p. 122.] 



172 JOHNSONIANA. 

was not extinguished, and is so appropriate, that it 
could belong to no other person in the world. Johnson 
said, that the remark of appropriation was just criti- 
cism : his friend was induced to pronounce, that he 
would not have so good an epitaph written for himself. 
Pope has nothing equal to it in his sepulchral poetry. 

295. Johnson's Library. 
Johnson had a large but not a splendid library, near 
five thousand volumes. Many authors, not in hostility 
with him, presented him with their works. But his 
study did not contain half his books. He possessed the 
chair that belonged to the Ciceronian Dr. King of Ox- 
ford, which was given him by his friend Vansittart. It 
answers the purposes of reading and writing, by night 
or by day ; and is as valuable in all respects as the 
chair of Ariosto, as delineated in the preface to Hoole's 
liberal translation of that poet. Since the rounding of 
this period, intelligence is brought, that this literary 
chair is purchased by Mr. Hoole. Relics are venerable 
things, and are only not to be worshipped. On the 
reading- chair of Mr. Speaker Onslow, a part of this his- 
torical sketch was written. 

296. Late Hours. 
Night was his time for composition. Indeed, he 
literally turned night into day, Nodes vigilabat ad ipsum 
mane; but not like Tigellius in Horace. Perhaps he 
never was a good sleeper, and, while all the rest of the 
world was in bed, he chose his lamp, in the words of 
Milton, — 

— — " in midnight hour 
Were seen in some high lonely tower." 

He wrote and lived perhaps at one time only from 
day to day, and, according to vulgar expression, from 
sheet to sheet. There is cause to believe, he would not 
have written unless under the pressure of necessity. 



TYERS. 173 

" Magister artis ingenique largitor venter/' says Persius. 
He wrote to live, and, luckily for mankind, lived a great 
many years to write. 

297. Strong Liquors. 
It never was said of him, that he was overtaken with 
liquor, — a declaration Bishop Hoadly makes of himself. 
But he owned, that he drank his hottle at a certain time 
of life. Like Solomon, who tried so many things for 
curiosity and delight, he renounced strong liquors ; and 
he might have said, as that king is made to do by 
Prior, — 

" I drank, I liked it not ; ' twas rage, ' twas noise, 
An airy scene of transitory joys." 

293. Rapid Composition. 
He asserted, and valued himself upon it, that he 
wrote the " Life of Savage" in six and thirty hours. In 
one night he also composed, after finishing an evening 
in Holborn, his " Hermit of Teneriffe." He sat up a 
whole night to compose the preface to the " Preceptor." 

299* Gesticulations. 
Though he seemed to be athletic as Milo himself, 
and in his younger days performed several feats of 
activity, he was to the last a convulsionary. He has 
often stepped aside to let nature do what she would 
with him. His gestures, which were a degree of St. 
Vitus's dance, in the street attracted the notice of 
many — the stare of the vulgar, but the compassion of 
the better sort. I have often looked another way, as 
the companions of Peter the Great were used to do, 
while he was under the short paroxysm. (*) 

(1) [See ante, Vol. I. p. 161. and Vol. IV. p. 9. j 



174 JOHNSONIANA. 

300. Conversation. 

Though his time seemed to be bespoke, and quite 
engrossed, his house was always open to all his ac- 
quaintance, new and old. His amanuensis has given 
up his pen, the printer's devil has waited on the stairs 
for a proof sheet, and the press has often stood still, 
while his visitors were delighted and instructed. No 
subject ever came amiss to him. He could transfer his 
thoughts from one thing to another with the most ac- 
commodating facility. He had the art, for which 
Locke was famous, of leading people to talk on their 
favourite subjects, and on what they knew best. By 
this he acquired a great deal of information. What he 
once heard he rarely forgot. They gave him their best 
conversation, and he generally made them pleased with 
themselves, for endeavouring to please him. 

Poet Smart used to relate, " that his first conversation 
with Johnson was of such variety and length, that it 
began with poetry and ended at fluxions." He always 
talked as if he was talking upon oath. He was the 
wisest person, and had the most knowledge in ready cash 
that I ever had the honour to be acquainted with. 
Johnson's advice was consulted on all occasions. He 
was known to be a good casuist, and therefore had many 
cases submitted for his judgment. His conversation, in 
the judgment of several, was thought to be equal to his 
correct writings. Perhaps the tongue will throw out 
more animated expressions than the pen. He said the 
most common things in the newest manner. He always 
commanded attention and regard. His person, though 
unadorned with dress, and even deformed by neglect, 
made you expect something, and you were hardly ever 
disappointed. His manner was interesting : the tone 
of his voice, and the sincerity of his expressions, even 
when they did not captivate your affections, or carry 
conviction, prevented contempt. If the line, by Pope, 



TYERS. 175 

on his father, can be applied to Johnson, it is character- 
istic of him, who never swore, nor told a lie. If the 
first part is not confined to the oath of allegiancs (/), it 
will be useful to insert it : — 

1 Nor dared an oath, nor hazarded a lie." 

It must be owned, his countenance, on some occasions, 
resembled too much the medallic likeness of Maglia- 
bechi ( 2 ), as exhibited before the printed account of 
him by Mr. Spence. No man dared to take liberties 
with him, nor flatly contradict him ; for he could repel 
any attack, having always about him the weapons of 
ridicule, of wit, and of argument. It must be owned, 
that some who had the desire to be admitted to him 
thought him too dogmatical, and as exacting too much 
homage to his opinions, and came no more. For they 
said while he presided in his library, surrounded by his 
admirers, he would, ' ' like Cato, give his little senate 
laws." 

301. Knowledge of Life. 
He had great knowledge in the science of human 
nature, and of the fashions and customs of life, and 
knew the world well. He had often in Ids mouth this 
line of Pope : — 

" The proper study of mankind is man." 
He was desirous of surveying life in all its modes and 
forms, and in all climates. He once offered to attend his 
friend Vansittart ( 3 ) to India, who was invited there 

( 1 ) Mr. Tyers seems to mean that the oath of allegiance is the 
only justifiable oath ; and in allusion, perhaps, to Johnson's po- 
litical principles, he insinuates, that even that oath he would not 
have willingly taken. — C. 

(2) Librarian to the Grand Dukes of Florence, and cele- 
brated for vast erudition and extreme slovenliness. He died in 
1714, aged 80. — C. 

(S") Dr. Johnson had some thoughts of going to India with 
anotner friend (Mr. Fowke, see ante, Vol. VI. p. 136.); but this 
proposition as to Mr. Vansittart, is nowhere else, that I have 



176 JOHNSONIANA. 

to make a fortune ; but it did not take place. He 
talked much of travelling into Poland, to observe the 
life of the Palatines, the account of which struck his 
curiosity very much. 

302. Johnson's Benevolence. 
His benevolence to mankind was known to all who 
knew him. Though so declared a friend to the church 
of England, and even a friend to the convocation, it 
assuredly was not in his wish to persecute for specu- 
lative notions. He used to say, he had no quarrel with 
any order of men, unless they disbelieved in revelation 
and a future state. He would, indeed, have sided with 
Sacheverell against Daniel Burgess, if he thought the 
church was in danger. His hand and his heart were 
always open to charity. The objects under his own 
roof were only a few of the subjects for relief. He was 
ever at the head of subscription in cases of distress. 
His guinea, as he said of another man of a bountiful 
disposition, was always ready. He wrote an exhort- 
ation to public bounty. He drew up a paper to recom- 
mend the French prisoners, in the last war but one, to 
the English benevolence; which was of service. He 
implored the hand of benevolence for others, even when 
he almost seemed a proper object of it himself. 

303. Johnsons Eyesight. 

His eyesight was not good; but he never wore 

spectacles ; not on account of such a ridiculous vow as 

Swift made not to use them, but because he was assured 

they would be of no service to him. He once declared 



seen, alluded to. Dr. Vansittart, of Oxford, was a great friend 
of Johnson's, and it is possible that he may have been invited by 
his younger brother, Mr. Henry Vansittart, when governor of 
Bengal, to join him in India; and Dr. Vansittart might per- 
haps have had some idea of including Johnson in the arrange- 
ment. — C. 



TYERS. 177 

that he st never saw the human face divine/' He saw 
better with one eye than the other. ( } ) Latterly, per- 
haps, he meant to save his eyes, and did not read 
so much as he otherwise would. 

304. Tour to Italy, — Dr. Brocklesby. — Lord Thurlow. 

Johnson, in 1783, meditated a tour into Italy or Por- 
tugal, for the sake of the climate. But Dr. Brocklesby, 
his friend and physician, conjured him, by every argu- 
ment in his power, not to go abroad in the state of 
his health; but, if he was resolved on the first, and 
wished for something additional to his income, desired 
he would permit him to accommodate him out of his 
fortune with one hundred pounds a year, during his 
travels. The reply to this generosity was to this 
effect : — " That he would not be obliged to any per- 
son's liberality, but to his king's." The continuance of 
this desire to go abroad occasioned the application for an 
increase of pension, that is so honourable to those who 
applied for it, and to the lord chancellor, who gave him 
leave to draw on his banker for any sum. At last he 
said, iC If I am worse, I cannot go ; if I am better, 
I need not go ; but if I continue neither better nor 
worse, I am as well where I am." 

305. Johnson s Death. 
Johnson was all his life preparing himself for death : 
but particularly in the last stage of his asthma and 

(1) [" Mr. Tyers informs us" (says a writer in the Gent. 
Mag. v. liv.p. 998 , probably Mr. Steevens), " that Dr. Johnson 
saw better with one eye than the other, but forbears to account 
for this unequal ability in his organs of sight. I beg therefore 
at once to supply his deficiency, and confirm his valuable anec- 
dote, by assuring him his late friend had, for many years, lost 
one of his eyes, and consequently could only see with its com- 
panion. He himself did not recollect the exact period when he 
became acquainted with this visual defect, which, as it hap- 
pened through no external violence, might, for some time, have 
escaped even his own observation. "] 
VOL. IX. N 



178 JOHNSONIANA. 

dropsy. " Take care of your soul — don't live such a 
life as I have done — don't let your business or dissipa- 
tion make you neglect your sabbath" — were now his 
constant inculcations. Private and public prayer, when 
his visitors were his audience, were his constant exer- 
cises. He died by " a quiet and silent expiration/' to 
use his own words on Milton, and his funeral was 
splendidly and numerously attended. The friends of 
the Doctor were happy on his easy departure, for they 
apprehended he might have died hard. At the end of 
this sketchy it may be hinted, that Johnson told me — 
for he saw I always had my eye and my ear upon him — 
that, at some time or other, I might be called upon to 
assist a posthumous account of him. 



Part IV. 

ANECDOTES OF DR. JOHNSON, 
BY J. HOOLE, ESQ.(i) 



306. Johnsons Last Illness, 

Saturday, Nov. 20. 1784. — This evening, about 
eight o'clock, I paid a visit to my dear friend Dr. John- 
son, whom I found very ill and in great dejection of 
spirits. We had a. most affecting conversation on the 
subject of religion, in which he exhorted me, with the 
greatest warmth of kindness, to attend closely to every 
xeligious duty, and particularly enforced the obligation 

(1). [See ante, Vol. VIII. p. 407.] 



HOOLE. 179 

of private prayer and receiving the sacrament. He 
desired me to stay that night and join in prayer with 
him ; adding, that he always went to prayer every 
night with his man Francis. He conjured me to read 
and meditate upon the Bible, and not to throw it aside 
for a play or a novel. He said he had himself lived in 
great negligence of religion and worship for forty years; 
that he had neglected to read his Bible, and had often 
reflected what ha could hereafter say when he should be 
asked why he had not read it. He begged me re- 
peatedly to let his present situation have due effect upon 
me ; and advised me,, when I got home., to note down in 
writing what had passed between us, adding, that what 
a man writes in that manner dwells upon his mind. 
He said many things that I cannot now recollect, but 
all delivered with the utmost fervour of religious zeal 
and personal affection. Between nine and ten o'clock 
his servant Francis came up strairs : he then said we 
would all go to prayers, and, desiring me to kneel down 
by his bed-side, he repeated several prayers with great 
devotion. I then took my leave. He then pressed 
me to think of all he had said, and to commit it to 
writing. I assured him I would. He seized my hand 
with much warmth, and repeated, iC Promise me you 
will do it : " on which we parted^, and I engaged to see 
him the next day. 

Sunday,, Xov. 21. — About noon I again visited him; 
found him rather better and easier, his spirits more 
raised, and his conversation more disposed' to general 
subjects. When I came in, he asked if 1 had done 
what he desired (meaning the noting down what passed 
the night before) ; and upon my saying that I had, he 
pressed my hand and said earnestly, " Thank you/' 
Our discourse then grew more cheerful. He told me, 
with apparent pleasure, that he heard the Empress of 
Russia had ordered ,c The Rambler" to be translated into 
the Russian language, and that a copy would be sea§ 

M % 



180 JOHNSONIANS. 

him. ( ] ) Before we parted, he put into my hands a 
little book, by Fleetwood, on the Sacrament, which he 
told me he had been the means of introducing to the 
University of Oxford by recommending it to a young 
student there. 

Monday, Nov. 22. — Visited the Doctor: found him 
seemingly better of his complaints, but extremely low 
and dejected. I sat by him till he fell a asleep, and 
soon after left him, as he seemed little disposed to talk; 
and, on my going away, he said, emphatically, " I am 
very poorly indeed ! " 

Tuesday, Nov. 23. — Called about eleven : the 
Doctor not up : Mr. Gardiner ( 2 ) in the dining-room : 
the Doctor soon came to us, and seemed more cheerful 
than the day before. He spoke of his design to invite 
a Mrs. Hall ( 3 ) to be with him, and to offer her Mrs. 
Williams's room. Called again about three : found him 
quite oppressed with company that morning, therefore 
left him directly. 

Wednesday, Nov. 24. — Called about seven in the 
evening : found him very ill and very low indeed. He 
said a thought had struck him that his rapid decline of 
health and strength might be partly owing to the town 
air, and spoke of getting a lodging at Islington. I sat 
with him till past nine, and then took my leave. 

Thursday, Nov. 25. — About three in the afternoon 
was told that he had desired that day to see no company* 
In the evening, about eight, called with Mr. Nicol ( 4 ), 
and, to our great surprise, we found him then setting out 
for Islington, to the Rev. Mr. Strahan's. He could scarce 
speak. We went with him down the court to the 
coach. He was accompanied by his servant Frank and 

(1) [See ante, p. 123.] 

(2) No doubt an error of the press for Mrs. Gardiner. — C. 

(3) Sister of the Rev. John Wesley. See ante, Vol. VIII. 
p. 68. — C. 

(4) Mr. George Nicol, of Pall Mall. — J. Hoolz. 



HOOLE. 181 

Mr. Lowe the painter. I offered myself to go with 
him, but he declined it. 

Friday, Nov. 26. — Called at his house about eleven : 
heard he was much better, and had a better night than 
he had known a great while, and was expected home 
that day. Called again in the afternoon — not so well 
as he was, nor expected home that night. 

Saturday, Nov. 27. — Called again about noon : 
heard he was much worse : went immediately to Isling- 
ton, where I found him extremely bad, and scarce able 
to speak, with the asthma. Sir John Hawkins, the 
Rev. Mr. Strahan, and Mrs. Strahan, were with him. 
Observing that we said little, he desired that we would 
not constrain ourselves, though he was not able to talk 
with us. Soon after he said he had something to say to 
Sir John Hawkins, on which we immediately went 
down into the parlour. Sir John soon followed us, and 
said he had been speaking about his will. Sir John 
started the idea of proposing to him to make it on the 
spot ; that Sir John should dictate it, and that I should 
write it. He went up to propose it, and soon came 
down with the Doctor's acceptance. The will was then 
begun ; but before we proceeded far, it being necessary, 
on account of some alteration, to begin again, Sir John 
asked the Doctor whether he would choose to make any 
introductory declaration respecting his faith. The 
Doctor said he would. Sir John further asked if he 
would make any declaration of his being of the church 
of England : to which the Doctor said (i No I " but, 
taking a pen, he wrote on a paper the following words, 
which he delivered to Sir John, desiring him to keep it: 
— ' ' I commit to the infinite mercies of Almighty God my 
soul, polluted with many sins ; but purified, I trust, 
with repentance and the death of Jesus Christ." While 
he was at Mr. Strahan* s, Dr. Brocklesby came in, and 
Dr. Johnson put the question to him, whether he 
thought he could live six weeks ? to which Dr. Brock- 
n 3 



182 JOHNSONIANA. 

lesby returned a very doubtful answer, and soon left us. 
After dinner the will was finished, and about six we 
came to town in Sir John Hawkins's carriage ; Sir 
John, Dr. Johnson, Mr. Ryland (who came in after 
dinner), and myself. The Doctor appeared much better 
in the way home, and talked pretty cheerfully. Sir John 
took leave of us at the end of Bolt Court, and Mr. Ry- 
land and myself went to his house with the Doctor, who 
began to grow very ill again. Mr. Ryland soon left us, 
and I remained with the Doctor till Mr. Sastres came 
in. We stayed with him about an hour, when we left 
him on his saying he had some business to do. Mr. 
Sastres and myself went together homewards, discours- 
ing on the dangerous state of our friend, when it was 
resolved that Mr. Sastres should write to Dr. Heberden; 
but going to his house that night, he fortunately found 
him at home, and he promised to be with Dr. Johnson 
next morning. 

Sunday, Nov. 28. — Went to Dr. Johnson's about 
two o'clock: met Mrs. Hoole coming from thence, as 
he was asleep : took her back with me : found Sir John 
Hawkins with him. The Doctor's conversation tolerably 
cheerful. Sir John reminded him that he had ex- 
pressed a desire to leave some small memorials to his 
friends, particularly a Polyglot Bible to Mr. Langton ; 
and asked if they should add the codicil then. The 
Doctor replied, " he had forty things to add, but could 
not do it at that time." Sir John then took his leave. 
Mr. Sastres came next into the dining-room, where I 
was with Mrs. Hoole. Dr. Johnson hearing that Mrs. 
Hoole was in the next room, desired to see her. He 
received her with great affection, took her by the hand, 
and said nearly these words : — <e I feel great tenderness 
for you : think of the situation in which you see me, 
profit, by it, and God Almighty keep you for Jesus 
Christ's sake, Amen." He then asked if we would 
both stay and dine with him. Mrs. Hoole said she 



HOOLE. 1S3 

could not ; but I agreed to stay. Upon my saying to 
the Doctor that Dr. Heberden would be with him that 
morning, his answer was, " God has called me, and 
Dr. Heberden comes too late." Soon after this Dr. 
Heberden came. While he was there, we heard them, 
from the other room, in earnest discourse, and found 
that they were talking over the affair ( ] ) of the K — g 

and C n *( 2 ) ^ e overheard Dr. Heberden say, 

" All you did was extremely proper." After Dr. He- 
berden was gone, Mr. Sastres and I returned into the 
chamber. Dr. Johnson complained that sleep this day 
had powerful dominion over him, that he waked with 
great difficulty, and that probably he should go off in 
one of these paroxysms. Afterwards he said that he 
hoped his sleep was the effect of opium taken some 
days before, which might not be worked off. We dined 
together — the Doctor, Mr. Sastres, Mrs. Davies, and 
myself. He ate a pretty good dinner with seeming ap- 
petite, but appearing rather impatient; and being asked 
unnecessary and frivolous questions, he said he often 
thought of Macbeth, — " Question enrages him." He 
retired immediately after dinner, and we soon went, at 
his desire (Mr. Sastres and myself), and sat with him 
till tea. He said little, but dozed at times. At six he 
ordered tea for us, and we went out to drink it with 
Mrs. Davies ; but the Doctor drank none. The Rev. 
Dr. Taylor, of Ashbourne, came soon after ; and Dr. 
Johnson desired our attendance at prayers, which were 
read by Dr. Taylor. Mr. Ryland came and sat some 
time with him : he thought him much better. Mr. 
Sastres and I continued with him the remainder of the 
evening, when he exhorted Mr. Sastres in nearly these 

(1) This alludes to an application made for an increase to his 
pension, to enable him to go to Italy. — J. Hoole. 

(2) Sic; but probably an error of the press for C r, mean- 
ing the King and Lord Chancellor: see ante, Vol. VIII. 
D. 353. — C. 

N 4 



184 JOHNSONIANA. 

words : — " There is no one who has shown me more 
attention than you have done, and it is now right you 
should claim some attention from me. You are a 
young man, and are to struggle through life : you are 
\n a profession that I dare say you will exercise with 
great fidelity and innocence ; but let me exhort you 
always to think of my situation, which must one day 
be yours : always remember that life is short, and that 
eternity never ends ! I say nothing of your religion ; 
for if you conscientiously keep to. it, I have little doubt 
but you may be saved : if you read the controversy, 1 
think we have the right on our side ; but if you do not 
read it, be not persuaded, from any worldly consider- 
ation, to alter the religion in which you were educated : 
change not, but from conviction of reason." He then 
most strongly enforced the motives of virtue and piety 
from the consideration of a future state of reward 
and punishment, and concluded with, " Remember all 
this, and God bless you ! Write down what I have 
said — I think you are the third person I have bid do 
this." ( ) At ten o'clock he dismissed us, thanking us 
for a visit which he said could not have been very plea- 
sant to us. 

Monday, Nov. 29- — Called with my son about 
eleven: saw the Doctor, who said, " You must not now 
stay ; " but, as we were going away, he said, " I will 
get Mr. Hoole to come next Wednesday and read the 
Litany to me, and do you and Mrs. Hoole come with 
him." He appeared very ill. Returning from the city 
I called again to inquire, and heard that Dr. Butter was 
with him. In the evening, about eight, called again, 
and just saw him ; but did not stay, as Mr. Langton 
was with him on business. I met Sir Joshua Reynolds 
going away. 

Tuesday, Nov. SO. — Called twice this morning, but 

(1) The other two were Dr. Brocklesby and myself.—* 

J. HOOLE. 



HOOLE. 185 

did not see him : he was much the same. In the 
evening, between six and seven, went to his house : 
found there Mr. Langton, Mr. Sastres, and Mr. Ryland : 
the Doctor being asleep in the chamber, we went all to 
tea and coffee ; when the Doctor came in to us rather 
cheerful^ and entering said, " Dear gentlemen, how do 
you do ? " He drank coffee, and, in the course of the 
conversation, said that he recollected a poem of his, 
made some years ago on a young gentleman coming of 
age.(') He repeated the whole with great spirit : it con- 
sisted of about fifteen or sixteen stanzas of four lines, 
in alternate rhyme. He said he had only repeated 
it once since he composed it, and that he nevei gave 
but one copy. He said several excellent things that 
evening, and among the rest, that " scruples made many 
men miserable, but few men good." He spoke of the 
affectation that men had to accuse themselves of petty 
faults or weaknesses, in order to exalt themselves into 
notice for any extraordinary talents which they might 
possess ; and instanced Waller, which he said he would 
record if he lived to revise his life. Waller was 
accustomed to say that his memory was so bad he would 
sometimes forget to repeat his grace at table, or the 
Lord's Prayer, perhaps that people might wonder at 
what he did else of great moment ; for the Doctor ob- 
served, that no man takes upon himself small blemishes 
without supposing that great abilities are attributed to 
him ; and that, in short, this affectation of candour or 
modesty was but another kind of indirect self-praise, 
and had its foundation in vanity. Frank bringing him 
a note, as he opened it he said an odd thought struck 
him, that r *one should receive no letters in the grave." (-) 

(1) [See ante, Vol. VIII. p. 414.] 

(2) This note was from Mr. Davies the bookseller, and men- 
tioned a present of some pork ; upon which the Doctor said, in 
a manner that seemed as if he thought it ill-timed, " Too much 
of this/' or some such expression. — J. Hoole. 



186 JOHNSONIANA. 

His talk was in general very serious and devout, though 
occasionally cheerful : he said, " You are all serious 
men, and I will tell you something. Ahout two years 
since I feared that I had neglected God, and that then 
I had not a mind to give him ; on which I set ahout 
to read Thomas a Kempis in Low Dutch, which I ac- 
complished, and thence I judged that my mind was, not 
impaired, Low Dutch having no affinity with any of 
the languages which I knew/' With respect to his re- 
covery, he seemed to think it hopeless, There was to 
be a consultation of physicians next day : he wished to 
have his legs scarified to let out the water ; hut this his 
medical friends opposed, and he submitted to their 
opinion, though he said he was not satisfied. At half 
past eight he dismissed us all but Mr. Langton. I first 
asked him if my son should attend him next day, to 
read the Litany, as he had desired ; but he declined it 
on account of the expected consultation. We went 
away, leaving Mr. Langton and Mr. Desmoulins, a 
young man who was employed in copying his Latin 
epigrams. 

Wednesday, Dec. 1 . — At his house in the evening : 
drank tea and coffee with Mr. Sastres, Mr. Desmoulins, 
and Mr. Hall^): went into the Doctor's chamber after 
tea, when he gave me an epitaph to copy, written by 
him for his father, mother, and brother. He continued 
much the same. 

Thursday, Dec. 2. — Called in the morning, and left 
the epitaph : with him in the evening about seven ; 
found Mr. Langton and Mr. Desmoulins ; did not see 
the Doctor ; he was in his chamber, and afterwards 
engaged with Dr. Scott. 

Friday Dec. 3. — Called; but he wished not to see 
any body. Consultations of physicians to be held that 
day : called again in the evening ; found Mr. Langton 

(1) Probably a mistake for Mrs. Hall. — C. 



HOOLE. 187 

with him ; Mr. Sastres and I went together into his 
chamber ; he was extremely low. " I am very bad 
indeed, dear gentlemen/' he said; Ci very bad, very low, 
very cold, and I think I find* my life to fail/" In about 
a quarter of an hour he dismissed Mr. Sastres and me ; 
but called me back again, and said that next Sunday, if 
he lived, he designed to take the sacrament, and wished 
me, my wife, and son to be there. We left Mr. Lang- 
ton with him. 

Saturday, Dec. 4. — Called on him about three : he 
was much the same ; did not see him, he had much 
company that day. Called in the evening with Mr. 
Sastres about eight ; found he was not disposed for 
company ; Mr. Langton with him ; did not see him. 

Sunday, Dec. 5. — Went to Bolt Court with Mrs. 
Hoole after eleven; found there Sir John Hawkins, Rev. 
Mr. Strahan, Mrs. Gardiner, and Mr. Desmoulins, in the 
dining-room. After some time the Doctor came to us 
from the chamber, and saluted us all, thanking us all 
for this visit to him. He said he found himself very 
bad, but hoped he should go well through the duty 
which he was about to do. The sacrament was then 
administered to all present, Frank being of the number. 
The Doctor repeatedly desired Mr. Strahan to speak 
louder; seeming very anxious not to lose any part of the 
service, in which he joined in very great fervour of devo- 
tion. The service over, he again thanked us all for attend- 
ing him on the occasion ; he saidhehad taken some opium 
to enable him to support the fatigue : he seemed quite 
spent, and lay in his chair some time in a kind of doze: 
he then got up and retired into his chamber. Mr. Ry- 
land then called on him. I was with them : he said to 
Mr. Ryland, " I have taken my viaticum : I hope I 
shall arrive safe at the end of my journey, and be accepted 
at last." He spoke very despondingly several times : 
Mr. Ryland comforted him, observing that * f wehad 
great hopes given us/' " Yes/' he replied, (C we have 



188 JOHNSONIANA. 

hopes give us ; but they are conditional, and I know 
not how far I have fulfilled those conditions/' ( J ) He 
afterwards said, " However, I think that I have now 
corrected all bad and vicious habits." Sir Joshua 
Reynolds called on him : we left them together. Sir 
Joshua being gone, he called Mr. Ryland and me again 
to him : he continued talking very seriously, and re- 
peated a prayer or collect with great fervour, when Mr. 
Ryland took his leave. He ate a tolerable dinner, but 
retired directly after dinner. My son came to us from 
his church : we were at dinner — Dr. Johnson, Mrs. 
Gardiner, myself, Mrs. Hoole, my son, and Mr. Des- 
moulins. He had looked out a sermon of Dr. Clarke's, 
" On the Shortness of Life/' for me me to read to him 
after dinner, but he was too ill to hear it. After six 
o'clock he called us all into his room, when he dis- 
missed us for that night with a prayer, delivered as he 
sat in his great chair in the most fervent and affecting 
manner, his mind appearing wholly employed with the 
thoughts of another life. He told Mr. Ryland that he 
wished not to come to God with opium, but that he 
hoped he had been properly attentive. He said before 
us all, that when he recovered the last spring, he had 
only called it a reprieve, but that he did think it was 
for a longer time ; however he hoped the time that had 
been prolonged to him might be the means of bringing 
forth fruit meet for repentance. 

Monday, Dec. 6. — Sent in the morning to make 
inquiry after him : he was much the same : called in 
the evening ; found Mr. Cruikshanks the Surgeon with 
him : he said he had been that day quarrelling with all 
his physicians : he appeared in tolerable spirits. 

Tuesday, Dec. 7. — Called at dinner time : saw him 
eat a very good dinner : he seemed rather better, and in 
spirits. 

(1) See his letter to Mrs. Thrale, Vol. II. p. 350. — J. Hoole. 



HOOLE. 189 

Wednesday, Dec. 8. — Went with Mrs. Hoole and 
my son, by appointment : found him very poorly and 
.low, after a very bad night. Mr. Nichols the printer 
was there. My son read the Litany, the Doctor several 
times urging him to speak louder. After prayers Mr. 
Langton came in : much serious discourse : he warned 
us all to profit by his situation ; and, applying to me, 
who stood next him, exhorted me to lead a better life 
than he had done. (C A better life than you, my dear 
Sir ! " I repeated. He replied warmly, " Don't compli- 
ment now." He told Mr. Langton that he had the 
night before enforced on ( l ) a powerful argu- 
ment to a powerful objection against Christianity. 

He had often thought it might seem strange that the 
Jews, who refused belief to the doctrine supported by 
the miracles of our Saviour, should after his death raise 
a numerous church ; but he said that they expected 
fully a temporal prince, and with this idea the multitude 
was actuated when they strewed his way' with palm- 
branches on his entry into Jerusalem ; but finding their 
expectations afterwards disappointed, rejected him, till 
in process of time, comparing all the circumstances and 
prophecies of the Old Testament, confirmed in the New, 
many were .converted; that the Apostles themselves 
once believed him to be a temporal prince. He said 
that he had always been struck with the resemblance of 
the Jewish passover and the Christian doctrine of redemp- 
tion. He thanked us all for our attendance, and we 
left him with Mr. Langton. 

Thursday, Dec. 9- — Called in the evening; did not 
see him, as he was engaged. 

Friday, Dec. 10, — Called about eleven in the morn- 
ing ; saw Mr. La Trobe there : neither of us saw 



(1) Probably Mr. Windham; see his Journal, post, p. 308. 
The wc*d He, in the next sentence, means not Mr. Windham, 
but Dr. Johnson. — C. 



190 JOHNSON IANA. 

the Doctor, as we understood he wished not to be visited 
that day. In the evening I sent him a letter, recom- 
mending Dr. Dalloway (an irregular physician) as an 
extraordinary person for curing the dropsy. He re- 
turned me a verbal answer that he was obliged to me, 
but that it was too late. My son read prayers with him 
this day. 

Saturday, Dec. 11. — Went to Bolt Court about 
twelve ; met there Dr. Burney, Dr. Taylor, Sir John 
Hawkins, Mr. Sastres, Mr. Paradise, Count Zenobia, 
and Mr. Langton. Mrs. Hoole called for me there : 
we both went to him : he received us very kindly ; 
told me he had my letter, but " it was too late for 
doctors, regular or irregular" His physicians had been 
with him that day, but prescribed nothing. Mr. Cruik- 
shanks came : the Doctor was rather cheerful with him ; 
he said, " Come, give me your hand," and shook him by 
the hand, adding, " You shall make no other use of it 
now ; meaning he should not examine his legs. Mr. 
Cruikshanks wished to do it, but the Doctor would not 
let him. Mr. Cruikshanks said he would call in the 
evening. 

Sunday, Dec. 12 Was not at Bolt Court in the 

forenoon ; at St. Sepulchre's school in the evening with 
Mrs. Hoole, where we saw Mrs. Gardiner and Lady 
Rothes ; heard that Dr. Johnson was very bad, and had 
been something delirious. Went to Bolt Court about 
nine, and found there Mr. Windham and the Rev. Mr. 
Strahan. The Doctor was then very bad in bed, which 
I think he had only taken to that day : he had now re- 
fused to take any more medicine or food. Mr. Cruik- 
shanks came about eleven : he endeavoured to persuade 
him to take some nourishment, but in vain. Mr. 
Windham then went again to him, and, by the advice 
of Mr. Cruikshanks, put it upon this footing — that by 
persisting to refute all sustenance he might probably 
defeat his own purpose to preserve his mind clear, as his 



HOOLE. 191 

weakness might bring on paralytic complaints that 
might affect his mental powers. The Doctor, Mr. 
Windham said, heard him patiently ; but when he had 
heard all, he desired to be troubled no more. He then 
took a most affectionate leave of Mr. Windham, who 
reported to us the issue of the conversation, for only 
Mr. Desmoulins was with them in the chamber. I did 
not see the Doctor that day, being fearful of disturbing 
him, and never conversed with him again. I came 
away about half-past eleven with Mr. Windham. 

Monday, Dec. 13. — Went to Bolt Court at eleven 
o'clock in the morning; met a young lady coming down 
stairs from the Doctor, whom, upon inquiry, I found to 
be Miss Morris (a sister to Miss Morris, formerly on 
the stage). Mrs. Desmoulins told me that she had seen 
the Doctor : that by her desire he had been told she came 
to ask his blessing, and that he said, " God bless you !" 
I then went up into his chamber, and found him lying very 
composed in a kind of doze : he spoke to nobody. Sir 
John Hawkins, Mr. Langton, Mrs. Gardiner, Rev. Mr. 
Strahan and Mrs. Strahan, Doctors Brocklesby and 
Butter, Mr. ' Steevens, and Mr. Nichols the printer, 
came ; but no one chose to disturb him by speaking to 
him, and he seemed to take no notice of any person. 
While Mrs. Gardiner and I were there, before the rest 
came, he took a little warm milk in a cup, when he said 
something upon its not being properly given into his 
hand : he breathed very regular, though short, and ap- 
peared to be mostly in a calm sleep or dozing. I left 
him in this state, and never more saw him alive. In the 
evening I supped with Mrs. Hoole and my son at Mr. 
Braithwaite's, and at night my servant brought me 
word that my dearest friend died that evening about 
seven o'clock : and next morning I went to the house, 
where I met Mr. Seward ; we went together into the 
chamber, and there saw the most awful sight of Dr. 
Johnson laid out in his bed, without life ! 



192 JOHNSONIAN, 



Part V. 

ANECDOTES OF DR. JOHNSON, 
BY GEORGE STEEVENS, ESQ. (') 

^Published in 1735.] 



307. Johnson and Richardson. 

Dr. Johnson confessed himself to have been some- 
times in the power of bailiffs. Richardson, the author 
of " Clarissa," was his constant friend on such occa- 
sions. •* I remember writing to him/' said Johnson, 
" from a sponging house ; and was so sure of my de- 
liverance through his kindness and liberality, that, 
before his reply was brought, I knew I could afford to 
joke with the rascal who had me in custody, and did so, 
ove* a pint of adulterated wine, for which, at that in- 
stant, I had no money to pay." v 

308. Eyesight. — Spectacles. 

It has been observed, that Johnson had lost the sight 
of one of his eyes. Mr. Ellis, an ancient gentleman 
(author of a very happy burlesque translation of the 
thirteenth book, added to the iEneid by Maffei Vegio), 
was in the same condition ; but, some years after, while 
he was at Margate, the sight of his eye unexpectedly 

(1) [Sec ante, Vol. VIII. p. 325,] 



STEEVENS. 193 

returned, and that of its fellow became as suddenly ex- 
tinguished. Concerning the particulars of this singular 
but authenticated event, Dr. Johnson was studiously- 
inquisitive, and not with reference to his own case. 
Though he never made use of glasses to assist his sight, 
he said he could recollect no production of art to which 
man has superior obligations. He mentioned the name 
of the original inventor Q) of spectacles with reverence, 
and expressed his wonder that not an individual, out of 
the multitudes who had profited by them, had, through 
gratitude, written the life of so great a benefactor to 
society. 

309. Popes " Messiah" 
" I have been told, Dr. Johnson," says a friend, 
" that your translation of Pope's e Messiah' was made 
either as a common exercise or as an imposition for 
some negligence you had been guilty of at college." 
" No, Sir/' replied the Doctor : "at Pembroke the 
former were always in prose, and to the latter I would 
not have submitted. I wrote it rather to show the 
tutors what I could do, than what I was willing should 
be done. It answered my purpose ; for it convinced 
those who were well enough inclined to punish me, that 
I could wield a scholars weapon, as often as I was 
menaced with arbitrary inflictions. Before the fre- 
quency of personal satire had weakened its effect, the 
petty tyrants of colleges stood in awe of a pointed re- 
mark, or a vindictive epigram. But since every man in 
his turn has been wounded, no man is ashamed of a 

310. Ballad Metre. 
When Dr. Percy first published his collection of an- 
cient English ballads, perhaps he was too lavish in 

(1 ) The inventor of spectacles is said to have been a monk at 
Pisa, who lived at the end of the thirteenth century, and whose 
name was Spina. 

VOL. IX. O 



194 JOHNSONIANA. 

commendation of the beautiful simplicity and poetic 
merit he supposed himself to discover in them. This 
circumstance provoked Johnson to observe one evening 
at Miss Reynolds's tea-table,, that he could rhyme as 
well, and as elegantly, in common narrative and con- 
versation. " For instance, says he," — 

" As with my hat upon my head 
I walk'd along the Strand, 
I there did meet another man 
With his hat in his hand. (1) 

Or, to render such poetry subservient to my own im- 
mediate use, — 

" I therefore pray thee, Renny dear, 
That thou wilt give to me, 
With cream and sugar soften' d well, 
Another dish of tea. 

" Nor fear that I, my gentle maid, 

Shall long detain the cup, 

When once unto the bottom I 

Have drunk the liquor up. 

" Yet hear, alas ! this mournful truth, 
Nor hear it with a frown ; — 
Thou canst not make the tea so fast 
As I can gulp it down." 

And thus he proceeded through several more stanzas, 
till the reverend critic cried out for quarter. Such ri- 
dicule, however, was unmerited. 

311. Night Composition. 
u Night," Mr. Tyers has told us, " was Johnson's 
time for composition." But this assertion, if meant for 
a general one, can be refuted by living evidence. Al- 

(1) See post, where this anecdote is told in the vague manner 
and on the imperfect authority of Mr. Cradock. To have de- 
liberately composed and circulated a parody on his friend's poem 
would have been a very different thing from a sportive impro- 
visation over the tea-table. — C 



STEEVENS. 195 

most the whole Preface to Shakspeare, and no inconsi- 
derable part of the " Lives of the Poets/' were composed 
by daylight, and in a room where a friend (*) was em- 
ployed by him in other investigations. His studies 
were only continued through the night, when the day 
had been preoccupied, or proved too short for his un- 
dertakings. Respecting the fertility of his genius, the 
resources of his learning, and the accuracy of his judg- 
ment, the darkness and the light were both alike. 

312. Bolingbroke and Mallet. 
When in his latter years he was reminded of his 
forcible sarcasm against Bolingbroke and Mallet ( 2 ), the 
Doctor exclaimed, " Did I really say so ? " " Yes, Sir." 
He replied, u I am heartily glad of it." 

313. CapeL 
"You knew Mr. Capel ( 3 ), Dr. Johnson?" " Yes, 
Sir ; I have seen him at Garrick's." " And what 
think you of his abilities ? " " They are just sufficient, 
Sir, to enable him to select the black hairs from the 
white ones, for the use of the periwig makers. Were 
he and I to count the grains in a bushel of wheat for a 
wager, he would certainly prove the winner." 

314. Collins and Steevens. — Mrs. Johnsons Death. 
When one Collins, a sleep- compelling divine of 
Hertfordshire, with the assistance of counsellor Hard- 
inge, published a heavy half-crown pamphlet against 
Mr. Steevens, Garrick asked the Doctor, what he thought 
of this attack on his coadjutor. "I regard Collins' s 
performance," replied Johnson, cc as a great gun with- 
out powder or shot" When the same Collins after- 

(1) Mr. Steevens himself. — C. 

(2) See ante, Vol. II. p. 15. — C. 

(3) The annotator of Shakspeare. — C. 

02 



196 JOHNSONIANA. 

wards appeared as editor of Capel's posthumous notes 
on Shakspeare, with a preface of his own, containing 
the following words, — " A sudden and most severe 
stroke of affliction has left my mind too much dis- 
tracted to he capable of engaging in such a task (that of 
a further attack on Mr. Steevens), though I am prompted 
to it by inclination as well as duty," — the Doctor asked 
to what misfortune the foregoing words referred. Being 
told that the critic had lost his wife, Johnson added, 
Ci I believe that the loss of teeth may deprave the voice 
of a singer, and that lameness will impede the motions 
of a dancing master, but I have not yet been taught to 
regard the death of a wife as the grave of literary 
exertions. When my dear Mrs. Johnson expired, I 
sought relief in my studies, and strove to lose the recol- 
lection of her in the toils of literature. Perhaps, how- 
ever, I wrong the feelings of this poor fellow. His 
wife might have held the pen in his name. Hinc Mm 
lachrymce. Nay, I think I observe, throughout his two 
pieces, a woman's irritability, with a woman's impotence 
of revenge." Yet such were Johnson's tender remem- 
brances of his own wife, that after her death, though he 
had a whole house at command, he would study nowhere 
but in a garret. Being asked the reason why he chose 
a situation so incommodious, he answered, " Because in 
that room only I never saw Mrs. Johnson." 

315. Frequenting the Theatre. 
" Though you brought a tragedy, Sir, to DruryLane, 
and at one time were so intimate with Garrick, you 
never appeared to have much theatrical acquaintance." 
" Sir, while I had, in common with other dramatic 
authors, the liberty of the scenes, without considering 
my admission behind them as a favour, I was frequently 
at the theatre. At that period all the wenches knew 
me, and dropped me a curtsy, as they passed on to the 
stage. But since poor Goldsmith's last comedy, I 
scarce recollect having seen the inside of a playhouse. 



STEEVENS. 197 

To speak the truth, there is small encouragement there 
for a man whose sight and hearing are become so im- 
perfect as mine. I may add, that, Garrick and Hen- 
derson excepted, I never met with a performer who had 
studied his art, or could give an intelligible reason for 
what he did." (*) 

316. Thrale s Table. 
" Mrs. Thrale," Mr. Tyers reports, " knew how to 
spread a table with the utmost plenty and elegance ; " 
but all who are acquainted with this lady's domestic 
history must know, that, in the present instance, Mr. 
Tyers's praise of her is unluckily bestowed. Her hus- 
band superintended every dinner set before his guests. 
After his death, she confessed her total ignorance in 
culinary arrangements. Poor Thrale studied an art of 
which he loved the produce, and to which he expired a 
martyr. Johnson repeatedly, and with all the warmth 
of earnest friendship, assured him he was nimis edax 
rerum, and that such unlimited indulgence of his pa- 
late would precipitate his end. 

317. Late Hours. 

On the night before the publication of the first edition 
of his Shakspeare, he supped with some friends in the 
Temple, who kept him up, " nothing loth," till past five 
the next morning. Much pleasantry was passing on the 
subject of commentatorship, when, all on a sudden, the 
Doctor, looking at his watch, cried out, " This is sport 
to you, gentlemen ; but you do not consider there are 
at most only four hours between me and criticism." 

The Doctor is known to have been, like Savage, a 
very late visitor ; yet, at whatever hour he returned, he 

(1) This was probably before his acquaintance with Mr. 
Kemble and Mrs. Siddons, which took place only the year 
before his death. See ante, Vol. VII I. p. 236. — C. 

o 3 



198 J0HNS0N1ANA. 

never went to bed without a previous call on Mrs.Wil- 
liams, the blind lady who for so many years had found 
protection under his roof. Coming home one morning 
between four and five, he said to her, "Take notice, 
Madam, that for once I am here before others are asleep. 
As I turned into the court, I ran against a knot of 
bricklayers." " You forget, my dear Sir/' replied she, 
"that these people have all been a-bed, and are now 
preparing for their day's work." " Is it so, then, 
Madam ? I confess that circumstance had escaped me." 

318. " Time to go to Bed" 

Once, and but once, he is known to have had too 
much wine; a circumstance which he himself dis- 
covered, on finding one of his sesquipedalian words 
hang fire. He then started up, and gravely observed, 
" I think it time we should go to bed." 

31 y. Doctoring one's-self. 

If "a little learning is a dangerous thing" on any 
speculative subject, it is eminently more so in the prac- 
tical science of physic. Johnson was too frequently his 
own doctor. In October, 1784, just before he came to 
London, he had taken an unusual dose of squills, but 
without effect. He swallowed the same quantity on 
his arrival here, and it produced a most violent oper- 
ation. He did not, as he afterwards confessed, reflect 
on the difference between the perished and inefficacious 
vegetable he found in the country, and the fresh and 
potent one of the same kind he was sure to meet with 
in town. " You find me at present," says he, " suffer- 
ing from a prescription of my own. When I am re- 
covered from its consequences, and not till then, I shall 
know the true state of my natural malady." From this 
period, he took no medicine without the approbation of 
Heberden. What follows is known by all, and by all 



STEEVENS. 199 

amented — ere now, perhaps, even by the prebends of 
Westminster. ( ! ) 

320. Johnsons Funeral. 

Johnson asked one of his executors, a few days before 
his death, " Where do you intend to bury me?" He 
answered, cc In Westminster Abbey." ec Then," con- 
tinued he, " if my friends think it worth while to give 
me a stone, let it be placed over me so as to protect my 
body." 

On the Monday after his decease he was interred in 
Westminster Abbey. The corpse was brought from 
his house, in Bolt Court, to the hearse, preceded by the 
Rev. Mr. Butt and the Rev. Mr. Strahan, about twelve 
o'clock. The following was the order of the pro- 
cession : — 

Hearse and six. 

The executors, viz. Sir Joshua Reynolds, Sir John 
Hawkins, and William Scott, LL. D. [Lord Stowell] in 
a coach and four. 

Eight coacbes and four, containing the Literary 
Club, and others of the Doctor's friends, invited by the 
executors ; viz. Dr. Burney, Mr. Malone, Mr. Steevens, 
the Rev. Mr. Strahan, Mr. Ryland, Mr. Hoole, Dr. 
Brocklesby, Mr. Cruikshanks, Mr. Nichols, Mr. Low, 
Mr. Paradise, General Paoli, Count Zenobia, Dr. Butter, 
Mr. Holder, Mr. Seward, Mr. Metcalf, Mr. Sastres, 
Mr. Des Moulins, the Rev. Mr. Butt, Dr. Horsley, Dr. 
Farmer, Dr. Wright ; to whom may be added, Mr. 
Cooke (who was introduced by Dr. Brocklesby), and 
the Doctor's faithful servant, Francis Barber. 

Two coaches and four, containing the pall-bearers, 
viz. Mr. Burke, Mr. Windham, Sir Charles Bunbury, 
Sir Joseph Banks, Mr. Colman, and Mr. Langton. 

{I) This sarcasm against the prebendaries of Westminster, 
and particularly against Johnson's friend Dr. Taylor, who was 
one of them, will be explained presently. — C. 
o 4? 



200 JOHNSONIANA. 

After these followed two mourning coaches and four, 
filled with gentlemen who, as volunteers, honoured 
themselves by attending this funeral. These were the 
Rev. Mr. Hoole, the Rev. Mr. East, Mr. Henderson, 
Mr. Mickle, Mr. Sharp, Mr. C. Burney, and Mr. G. 
Nicol. 

Thirteen gentlemen's carriages closed the procession, 
which reached the Abbey a little before one. 

The corpse was met at the west door by the pre- 
bendaries in residence,, to the number of six, in their 
surplices and doctor's hoods ; and the officers of the 
church, and attendants on the funeral, were then mar- 
shalled in the following order : — 

Two vergers. 

The Rev. Mr. Strahan. 

The Rev. Mr. Butt. 

The Body. 

Sir Joshua Reynolds, as chief mourner and an executor. 

Sir John Hawkins and Dr. Scott, as executors. 

The rest two and two. 

The body then proceeded to the south cross, and, in 

view of the three executors, was deposited by the side 

of Mr. Garrick, with the feet opposite to the monument 

of Shakspeare. 

The Rev. Dr. Taylor performed the burial service, 
attended by some gentlemen of the Abbey ; but it must 
be regretted by all who continue to reverence the hier- 
archy, that the cathedral service was withheld from 
its invariable friend ; and the omission was truly offen- 
sive to the audience at large. 

How this omission happened, we are unable to ac- 
count. Perhaps the executors should have asked for 
it ; but at all events it should have been performed. 
That the fees for opening the ground were paid, was a 
matter of indispensable necessity ; and there can be no 
doubt, from the liberality of the present dean and 



STEEVENS. 201 

chapter, but they will be returned, as was offered in 
the case of Dry den, and was done in that of St. Evre- 
mond, who iC died," says Atterbury, " renouncing the 
Christian religion ; " yet the church of Westminster 
thought fit, in honour to his memory, to give his body 
room in the Abbey, and allow him to be buried there 
gratis, so far as the chapter were concerned, though he 
left 8 00 J. sterling behind him, which is thought every 
way an unaccountable piece of management. How 
striking the contrast between St. Evremond and John- 
son. (*) 

(1) "It must be told, that a dissatisfaction was expressed in 
the public papers that he was not buried with all possible funeral 
rites and honours. In all processions and solemnities something 
will be forgotten or omitted. Here no disrespect was intended. 
The executors did not think themselves justified in doing more 
than they did ; for only a little cathedral service, accompanied 
with lights and music, would have raised the price of interment. 
In this matter fees ran high ; they could not be excused ; and 
the expenses were to be paid from the property of the deceased. 
His funeral expenses amounted to more than two hundred 
pounds. Future monumental charges may be defrayed by the 
generosity of subscription." — Gentleman's Magazine, 1785, 
p. 911., probably by Mr. Tyers. 

It is supposed that the fees were not returned, and it is to be 
added, that all Dr. Johnson's friends, but especially Mr. Malone 
and Mr. Steevens, were indignant at the mean and selfish spirit 
which the dean and chapter exhibited on this occasion ; but they 
were especially so against Dr. Taylor, not only for not having 
prevailed on his colleagues to show more respect to his old 
friend, but for the unfeeling manner in which he himself per- 
formed the burial service. — C. 



202 JOHNSONIANA. 



Part VI. 

ANECDOTES OF DR. JOHNSON, 
BY MISS REYNOLDS. (0 



[From a MS. entitled " Recollections of Dr. Johnson," communicated, 
in 1829, to Mr. Croker, by Mr. Palmer, grand-nephew of Sir Joshua 
Reynolds. See anU t VoL L p. x.] 



321. " Clarissa Harlowe" 
The first time I was in company with Dr. Johnson, 
which was at Miss Cotterd's^), I well remember the 
flattering notice he took of a lady present, on her say- 
ing that she was inclined to estimate the morality of 
every person according as they liked or disliked " Clarissa 
Harlowe." He was a great admirer of Richardson's 
works in general, but of " Clarissa" he always spoke with 
the highest enthusiastic praise. He used to say, that it 
was the first book in the world for the knowledge it dis- 
plays of the human heart. 

322. Richardson. 

Yet of the author I never heard him speak with 

any degree of cordiality, but rather as if impressed with 

some cause of resentment against him ; and this has 

been imputed to something of jealousy, not to say envy, 

(1) [See ante, Vol. I. p. 291. ; and Vol. II. p.lSS.1 



MISS REYNOLDS. 203 

on account of Richardson's having engrossed the atten- 
tions and affectionate assiduities of several very ingenious 
literary ladies, whom he used to call his adopted daugh- 
ters, and for whom Dr. Johnson had conceived a 
paternal affection (particularly for two of them^, Miss 
Carter and Miss Mulso, now Mrs. Chapone), previous 
to their acquaintance with Richardson ; and it was said, 
that he thought himself neglected by them on his 
account. 

32,3. Female Friendship. 
Dr. Johnson set a higher value upon female friend- 
ship than, perhaps, most men; which may reasonably be 
supposed was not a little enhanced hy his acquaintance 
with those ladies, if it was not originally derived from 
them. To their society, doubtless, Richardson owed 
that delicacy of sentiment, that feminine excellence, as 
I may say, that so peculiarly distinguishes his writings 
from those of his own sex in general, how high soever 
they may soar above the other in the more dignified 
paths of literature, in scientific investigations, and 
abstruse inquiries. 

324. What is Love ? 
Dr. Johnson used to repeat, with very apparent 
delight, some lines of a poem written by Miss Mulso : — 

" Say, Stella, what is love, whose cruel power 
Robs virtue of content, and youth of joy? 
What nymph or goddess, in what fatal hour, 
Produced to light the miscbief-making boy 

11 Some say, by Idleness and Pleasure bred, 
The smiling babe on beds of roses lay ; 
There with soft hone/d dews by Fancy fed, 
His infant beauties open'd on the day." (*) 

(1) Johnson paid the first of those stanzas the great and un- 
deserved compliment of quoting it in his Dictionary, under the 
word u Quatrain." — C. 



204 JOHNSONIANA. 

325. An Inn. 
Dr. Johnson had an uncommonly retentive memory for 
every thing that appeared to him worthy of observation. 
Whatever he met with in reading, particularly poetry, I 
believe he seldom required a revisal to be able to repeat 
verbatim. If not literally so, his deviations were 
generally improvements. This was the case, in some 
respects, in Shenstone's poem of " The Inn," which I 
learned from hearing Dr. Johnson repeat it ; and I was 
surprised, on seeing it lately among the author's works 
for the first time, to find it so different. One stanza he 
seems to have extemporised himself : — 

" And once again I shape my way 

Through rain, through shine, through thick and thin, 
Secure to meet, at close of day, 
A kind reception at an inn." ( J ) 

326. Quick Reading. 

He always read amazingly quick, glancing his eye 
from the top to the bottom of the page in an instant 
If he made any pause, it was a compliment to the 
work ; and, after seesawing over it a few minutes, 
generally repeated the passage, especially if it was 
poetry. 

327. Pope's cc Essay on Man? 

One day, on taking up Pope's ec Essay on Man," 
a particular passage seemed more than ordinarily to en- 
gage his attention ; so much so, indeed, that, contrary to 
his usual custom, after he had left the book and the 
seat in which he was sitting, he returned to revise it, 
turning over the pages with anxiety to find it, and then 
repeated — 

" Passions, though selfish, if their means be fair 
List under Reason, and deserve her care ; 

(1) [See ante. Vol. VI. p. 82.] 



MISS REYNOLDS. 205 

Those that, imparted, court a nobler aim, 
Exalt their kind, and take some virtue's name/' 

His task, probably, was the whole paragraph, but these 
lines only were audible. 

328. Favourite Verses. 
He seemed much to delight in reciting verses, par- 
ticularly from Pope. Among the many 1 have had the 
pleasure of hearing him recite, the conclusion of the 
" Dunciad," and his tc Epistle to Jervas," seemed to 
claim his highest admiration : — 

" Led by some rule that guides, but not constrains, 
And finish'd more through happiness than pains," ( ) 

he used to remark, was a union that constituted the ul- 
timate degree of excellence in the fine arts. 

Two lines from Pope's " Universal Prayer" I have 
heard him quote, in very serious conversation, as his 
theological creed : — 

" And binding Nature fast in fate, 
Left free the human will." 

Some lines also he used to repeat in his best manner, 
written in memory of Bishop Boulter ( 2 ), which I be- 
lieve are not much known : — 

Some write their wrongs in marble : he. more just, 

Stoop'd down serene and wrote them in the dust ; 

Trod under foot, the sport of every wind, 

Swept from the earth, and blotted from his mind. 

There, secret in the grave, he bade them lie, 

And grieved they could not 'scape the Almighty's eye." 

329. Goldsmith. 
Of Goldsmith's ec Traveller" he used to speak in 
terms of the highest commendation. A lady ( 3 ) I 

(1) Epistle to Jervas. — Reynolds. 

(2) By Dt. Madden. See ante, Vol. II. p. 74. — C. 

(3) Miss Reynolds herself. — C. 



206 JOHNSONIANA. 

remember, who had the pleasure of hearing Dr. John- 
son read it from the beginning to the end on its first 
coming out, to testify her admiration of it, exclaimed, 
" I never more shall think Dr. Goldsmith ugly." 

In having thought so, however, she was by no means 
singular ; an instance of which I am rather inclined to 
mention, because it involves a remarkable one of Dr. 
Johnson's ready wit : for this lady, one evening being in 
a large party, was called upon after supper for her toast, 
and seeming embarrassed, she was desired to give the 
ugliest man she knew ; and she immediately named Dr. 
Goldsmith, on which a lady (*) on the other side of the 
table rose up and reached across to shake hands with 
her, expressing some desire of being better acquainted 
with her, it being the first time they had met ; on which 
Dr. Johnson said, cc Thus the ancients, on the com- 
mencement of their friendships, used to sacrifice a beast 
betwixt them. ,, 

Sir Joshua, I have often thought, never gave a more 
striking proof of his excellence in portrait-painting, than 
in giving dignity to Dr. Goldsmith's countenance, and 
yet preserving a strong likeness. But he drew after his 
mind, or rather his genius, if I may be allowed to make 
that distinction; assimilating the one with his convers- 
ation, the other with his works. 

Dr. Goldsmith's cast of countenance, and indeed his 
whole figure from head to foot, impressed every one at 
first sight with an idea of his being a low mechanic ; 
particularly, I believe, a journeyman tailor. A little 
concurring instance of this I well remember. One day 
at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, in company with some gentle- 
men and ladies, he was relating with great indignation 
an insult he had just received from some gentleman he 
had accidentally met (I think at a coffee-house). €i The 
fellow," he said, <e took me for a tailor !*' on which all 

(1) Mrs. Cholmondeiey. — Reynolds. 



MISS REYNOLDS. 207 

the party either laughed aloud or showed they suppressed 
a laugh. 

Dr. Johnson seemed to have much more kindness for 
Goldsmith, than Goldsmith had for him. He always 
appeared to be overawed by Johnson, particularly when 
in company with people of any consequence, always as 
if impressed with some fear of disgrace ; and, indeed, 
well he might. I have been witness to many mortifica- 
tions he has suffered in Dr. Johnson's company : one 
day in particular, at Sir Joshua's table, a gentleman to 
whom he was talking his best stopped him, in the midst 
of his discourse,, with " Hush ! hush ! Dr. Johnson is 
going to say something." 

At another time, a gentleman who was sitting between 
Dr. Johnson and Dr. Goldsmith, and with whom he had 
been disputing, remarked to another, loud enough for 
Goldsmith to hear him, " That he had a fine time ot 
it, between Ursa major and Ursa minor !"Q) 

330. Talking one's be$t. 
Mr. Baretti used to remark, with a smile, that Dr. 
Johnson always talked his best to the ladies. But, in- 
deed, that was his general practice to all who would 
furnish him with a subject worthy of his discussion ; 
for, what was very singular in him, he would rarely, if 
ever, begin any subject himself, but would dt silent ( 2 ) 
till something was particularly addressed to him, and if 
that happened to lead to any scientific or moral inquiry, 
his benevolence, I believe, more immediately incited 

(1) This is a striking instance of the easy fabrication of what 
are called anecdotes, and of how little even the best authorities 
can be relied on in such matters. The real anecdote was of 
Doctor Major and Doctor Minor (see ante, Vol. IV. p. 98.), 
by no means so happy as the fabrication ; and the title of Ursa 
Major was applied to Johnson by old Lord Auchinlech (ante, 
Vol. V. p. 132. ). From these two facts the pleasant fallacy 
quoted by Miss Reynolds was no doubt compounded. — C. 

(2) See ante, Vol. IV. p. 71. — C. 



208 JOHNSONIANA. 

him to expatiate on it for the edification of the ignorant 
than for any other motive whatever. 

331. Punishment of Criminals, — Original Sin, 

One day, on a lady's telling him that she had read 
ParnelTs " Hermit" with dissatisfaction, for she could 
not help thinking that thieves and murderers, who were 
such immediate ministers from Heaven of good to man, 
did not deserve such punishments as our laws inflict, 
Dr. Johnson spoke such an eloquent oration, so deeply 
philosophical, as indeed afforded a most striking instance 
of the truth of Baretti's observation, hut of which, to 
my great regret, I can give no corroborating proof, my 
memory furnishing me with nothing more than barely 
the general tendency of his arguments, which was to 
prove, that though it might be said that wicked men, as 
well as the good, were ministers of God, because in the 
moral sphere the good we enjoy and the evil we suffer 
are administered to us by man, yet, as Infinite Goodness 
could not inspire or influence man to act wickedly, but, 
on the contrary, it was his divine property to produce 
good out of evil, and as man was endowed with free-will 
to act, or to refrain from acting wickedly, with know- 
ledge of good and evil, with conscience to admonish and 
to direct him to choose the one and to reject the other, 
he was, therefore, as criminal in the sight of God and of 
man, and as deserving punishment for his evil deeds, as 
if no good had resulted from them. 

And yet, though, to the best of my remembrance, 
this was the substance of Dr. Johnson's discourse in 
answer to the lady's observation, I am rather apprehen- 
sive that, in some respects, it may be thought inconsistent 
with his general assertations, that man was by nature 
much more inclined to evil than to good. But it would ill 
become me to expatiate on such a subject. 

Yet, what can be said to reconcile his opinion of the 
natural tendency of the human heart to evil with his 



MISS REYNOLDS. 209 

own zealous virtuous propensions ? Nothings perhaps, 
at least by me, but that this opinion, I believe, was 
founded upon religious principles relating to original 
sin ; and I well remember that, when disputing with a 
person on this subject, who thought that nature, reason, 
and virtue were the constituent principles of humanity, 
he would say, " Nay, nay, if man is by nature prompted 
to act virtuously, all the divine precepts of the Gospel, 
all its denunciations, all the laws enacted by man to 
restrain man from evil, had been needless/' 

332. Sympathy. 
It is certain that he would scarcely allow any one to 
feel much for the distresses of others ; or whatever he 
thought they might feel, he was very apt to impute 
to causes that did no honour to human nature. In- 
deed, I thought him rather too fond of Rochefoucault 
maxims. 

333. Evil Propensions. 
The very strict watch he apparently kept over his 
mind seems to correspond with his thorough conviction 
of nature's evil propensions ; but it might be as'likely in 
consequence of his dread of those peculiar ones, what- 
ever they were, which attended, or rather constituted, 
his mental malady, which, I have observed, might 
probably have incited him so often to pray ; and I im- 
pute it to the same cause, that he so frequently, with 
great earnestness, desired his intimate acquaintance to 
pray for him, apparently on very slight occasions of 
corporeal disorder. 

334. Morbid Melancholy. 

An axiom of his was, that the pains and miseries in- 
cident to human life far outweighed its happiness and 
good. But much may be said in Dr. Johnson's justi- 
fication, supposing this notion should not meet with 

VOL. IX. p 



210 JOHNSONIANA. 

universal approbation, he having, it is probable, imbibed 
it in the early part of his life when under the pressure 
of adverse fortune, and in every period of it under 
the still heavier pressure and more adverse influence of 
Nature herself ; for I have often heard him lament that 
he inherited from his father a morbid disposition both 
of body and of mind — an oppressive melancholy, which 
robbed him of the common enjoyments of life. ( ] ) 

Indeed, he seemed to struggle almost incessantly with 
some mental evil, and often, by the expression of his 
countenance and the motion of his lips, appeared to be 
offering up some ejaculation to Heaven to remove it. 
But in Lent, or near the approach of any great festival, 
he would generally retire from the company to a corner 
of the room, but most commonly behind a window- 
curtain, to pray, and with such energy, and in so loud 
a whisper, that every word was heard distinctly, par- 
ticularly the Lord's Prayer and the Apostles' Creed, 
with which he constantly concluded his devotions. 
Sometimes some words would emphatically escape him 
in his usual tone of voice. 

Probably his studious attention to the secret workings 
of his peculiar mental infirmity, together with his 
experience of divine assistance co-operating with his 
reasoning faculties, to repel its force, may have proved 
in the highest degree conducive to the exaltation of his 
piety, and the pre-eminence of his wisdom. And I 
think it equally probable, that all his natural defects 
were conducive to that end ; for being so peculiarly de- 
barred from the enjoyment of those amusements which 
the eye and the ear afford, doubtless he sought more 
assiduously for those gratifications which scientific pur- 
suits or philosophic meditation bestow. 

( 1 ) This last paragraph was originally written, " terrifying 
melancholy, which he was sometimes apprehensive bordered on 
insanity." This Miss Reynolds softened into the remark as it 
stands above. — C. 



MISS REYNOLDS. 211 

335. Painting and Music. 

These defects sufficiently account for his insensibility 
of the charms of music and of paintings being utterly 
incapable of receiving any delight from the one or the 
other, particularly from painting, his sight being more 
deficient than his hearing. 

Of the superficies of the fine arts, or visible objects 
of taste, he could have had but an imperfect idea ; but 
as to the invisible principles of a natural good taste, 
doubtless he was possessed of these in the most eminent 
degree, and I should have thought it a strange incon- 
sistency indeed in his character, had he really wanted a 
taste for music ; but as a proof that he did not, I think 
I had need only mention, that he was remarkably fond 
of Dr. Burney's " History of Music ( ] ), " and that he 
said it showed that the author understood the philosophy 
of music better than any man that ever wrote on that 
sibject. 

It is certain that, when in the company of con- 
noisseurs, whose conversation has turned chiefly upon 
the merits of the attractive charms of painting, perhaps 
of pictures that were immediately under their inspec- 
tion, Dr. Johnson, I have thought, used to appear as if 
conscious of his unbecoming situation, or rather, I might 
say, suspicious that it was an unbecoming situation. 

But it was observable, that he rather avoided the dis- 
covery of it ; for when asked his opinion of the like- 
ness of any portrait of a friend, he has generally evaded 
the question, and if obliged to examine it, he has held 
the picture most ridiculously, quite close to his eye, just 
as he held his book. But he was so unwilling to ex- 
pose that defect, that he was much displeased with Sir 

(1) Miss Reynolds will hardly convince any one that Dr 
Johnson was fond of music by proving that he was fond of his 
friend Dr. Burney's " History of Music." The truth is, he held 
both painting and music in great contempt, because his organs 
afforded him no adequate perception of either. — C. 

p 2 



212 JOHNSONIANA. 

Joshua, I remember, for drawing him with his book 
held in that manner, which, I believe, was the cause of 
that picture being left unfinished. " (') 

336. Religion and Morality. — Good-breeding. 
On every occasion that had the least tendency to de- 
preciate religion or morality, he totally disregarded all 
forms or rules of good-breeding, as utterly unworthy of 
the slightest consideration. But it must be confessed, 
that he sometimes suffered this noble principle to trans- 
gress its due bounds, and to extend even to those who 
were anywise connected with the person who had 
offended him. 

337. Republicans. 
His treatment of Mr. Israel Wilkes (' ) was mild in 
comparison of what a gentleman ( s ) met with from him 
one day at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, a barrister at law and 
a man of fashion, who, on discoursing with Dr. (then 
Mr.) Johnson on the laws and government of different 
nations (I remember particularly those of Venice), and 
happening to speak of them in terms of high approbation : 
" Yes, Sir," says Johnson, " all republican rascals think 
as you do." How the conversation ended I have forgot, 
it was so many years ago ; but that he made no apology 
to the gentleman I am very sure, nor to any person 
present, for such an outrage against society. 

338. Influ en ce of Age. 
Of latter years he grew much more companionable, 
and I have heard him say, that he knew himself to be 
lo. ie In my younger days/' he would say, " it is 

(1) This, however, or a similar picture, was finished and en- 
graved as the frontispiece of Murphy's edition of Dr. Johnson's 
works. — C. 

(2) See ante, Vol. VI. p. 18^. 

(3) Mr. Elliot. — Reynolds. 



MISS REYNOLDS. 2J3 

true I was much inclined to treat mankind with asperity 
and contempt; but 1 found it answered no good end. 
I thought it wiser and better to take the world as it 
goes. Besides, as I have advanced in life I have had 
more reason to be satisfied with it. Mankind have 
treated me with more kindness,, and . of course I have 
more kindness for them. 

339* Influence of Fortune. 
In the latter part of his life, indeed, his circum- 
stances were very different from what they were in the 
beginning. Before he had the pension, he literally 
dressed like a beggar Q) ; and from what I have been 
told, he as literally lived as such ; at least as to com- 
mon conveniences in his apartments, wanting even a 
chair to sit on, particularly in his study, where agentleman 
who frequently visited him whilst writing his Idlers 
constantly found him at his desk, sitting on one with 
three legs ; and on rising from it, he remarked that Dr. 
Johnson never forgot its defect, but would either hold 
it in his hand or place it with great composure against 
some support, taking no notice of its imperfection to his 
visitor. Whether the visitor sat on a chair, or en a 
pile of folios ( 2 ), or how he sat, I never remember to 
have been told. 

340. Ceremony to Ladies. 
He particularly piqued himself upon his nice ob- 
servance of ceremonious punctilios towards ladies. A 
remarkable instance of this was his never suffering any 
lady to walk from his house to her carriage, through 
Bolt Court, unattended by himself to hand her into it 
(at least I have reason to suppose it to be his general 
custom, from his constant performance of it to those 

(1) See post, in Miss Hawkins's Anecdotes, how different 
his appearance was after the pension. — C. 

(2) See ante, p. 172. — C- 

P 3 



214? JOHNSONIANS. 

with whom he was the most intimately acquainted) : 
and if any obstacle prevented it from driving off, there 
he would stand by the door of it, and gather a mob 
around him ; indeed, they would begin to gather the 
moment he appeared handing the lady down the steps 
into Fleet Street. But to describe his appearance — 
his important air — that indeed cannot be described ; 
and his morning habiliments would excite the utmost 
astonishment in my reader, that a man in his senses 
could think of stepping outside his door in them, or 
even to be seen at home. Sometimes he exhibited 
himself at the distance of eight or ten doors from Bolt 
Court, to get at the carriage, to the no small diversion 
of the populace. (*) 

341. Joh nsons Dress. — Miss Cotter eL 
His best dress was, in his early times, so very mean, 
that one afternoon as he was following some ladies 
up stairs, on a visit to a lady of fashion (MissCotterel ( 2 ), 
the servant, not knowing him, suddenly seized him by 
the shoulder, and exclaimed, (( Where are you going ?" 
striving at the same time to drag him back ; but a 
gentleman ( 8 ) who was a few steps behind prevented 
her from doing or saying more, and Mr. Johnson 
growled all the way up stairs, as well he might. He 
seemed much chagrined and discomposed. Unluckily, 
whilst in this humour, a lady of high rank ( 4 ) happen- 

(i) [See ante, Vol. VI. p. 25 — C.l 

(2) His acquaintance with this lady and her sister, who mar- 
ried Dean Lewis, continued to the last days of his life. He 
says in one of his letters to Mrs. Thrale, " I know not whether 
I told you that my old friend Mrs. Cotterel, now no longer 
Miss, has called to see me. Mrs. Lewis is not well. — April 26. 
1784." It is gratifying to observe how many of Johnson's ear- 
liest friends continued so to the last. — C. 

(3) Sir Joshua (then Mr.) Reynolds. — C. 

(4) Lady Fitzroy. — Miss Reynolds. — See ante, Vol. I. 
p. 293., where this story is told of the Duchess of Argyll and 
another lady of high rank : that other lady was no doubt the 
person erroneously designated bv Miss Reynolds as Lady Fitz- 



MISS REYNOLDS. 215 

ing to call upon Miss Cotterel, he was most violently 
offended with her for not introducing him to her lady- 
ship, and still more so for her seeming to show more 
attention to her than to him. After sitting some time 
silent, meditating how to down Miss Cotterel, he ad- 
dressed himself to Mr. Reynolds, who sat next him, 
and, after a few introductory words, with a loud voice 
said, ' c I wonder which of us two could get most money 
at his trade in one week, were we to work hard at it 
from morning till night." I don't remember the 
answer ; but I know that the lady, rising soon after, 
went away without knowing what trade they were of. 
She might probably suspect Mr. Johnson to be a poor 
author by his dress ; and because the trade of neither a 
blacksmith, a porter, or a chairman, which she probably 
would have taken him for in the street, was not quite 
so suitable to the place she saw him in. This incident 
he used to mention with great glee — how he had 
downed Miss Cotterel, though at the same time he pro- 
fessed a great friendship and esteem for that lady. 

342. Dr. Barnard. — u Forty-five:' 
It is certain, for such kind of mortifications, he never 
expressed any concern ; but on other occasions he has 
shown an amiable sorrow (') for the offence he has 
given, particularly if it seemed to involve the slightest 
disrespect to the church or to its ministers. 

I shall never forget with what regret he spoke of 
the rude reply he made to Dr. Barnard, on his saying 
that men never improved after the age of forty- five. 

roy. She probably was Elizabeth Cosby, wife of Lord Augus- 
tus Fitzroy, and grandmother of the present Duke of Grafton. 
— C. 

(1) " He repented just as certainly, however, if he had been 
led to praise any person or thing by accident more than he 
thought it deserved ; and was on such occasions comically ear- 
nest to destroy the praise or pleasure he had unintentionally 
given." — Piozd. — C. 

p 4 



216 JOHNSONIANA. 

" That is not true, Sir/' said Johnson. " You, who 
perhaps are forty-eight, may still improve, if you will 
try : I wish you would set about it ; and I am afraid," 
he added, " there is great room for it;" and this was 
said in rather a large party of ladies and gentlemen at 
dinner. Soon after the ladies withdrew from the table, 
Dr. Johnson followed them, and, sitting down by the 
lady of the house, he said, ' c I am very sorry for having 
spoken so rudely to the dean/' ce You very well may, 
Sir." C( Yes," he said, <c it was highly improper to 
speak in that style to a minister of the Gospel, and I 
am the more hurt on reflecting with what mild dignity 
he received it." When the dean came up into the 
drawing-room, Dr. Johnson immediately rose from his 
seat, and made him sit on the sofa by him, and with 
such a beseeching look for pardon, and with such fond 
gestures — literally smoothing down his arms and his 
knees — tokens of penitence, which were so graciously re- 
ceived by the dean as to make Dr. Johnson very happy, 
and not a little added to the esteem and respect he had 
previously entertained for his character. 

The next morning the dean called on Sir Joshua 
Reynolds with the following verses : — 

" I lately thought no man alive 
Could e'er improve past forty-five, 

And ventured to assert it. 
The observation was not new, 
But seem'd to me so just and true 

That none could controvert it. 

" ' No, Sir,' says Johnson, ' 'tis not so; 
'Tis your mistake, and I can show 

An instance, if you doubt it. 
You, who perhaps are forty-eight, 
May still improve, 't is not too late : 

I wish you 'd set about it.' 

" Encouraged thus to mend my faults, 
1 turn'd his counsel in my thoughts 
Which way 1 could apply it ; 



MISS REYNOLDS. 217 

Genius I knew was past my reach, 
For who can learn what none can teach ? 
And wit — I could not buy it. 

" Then come, my friends, and try your skill ; 
You may improve me if you will, 

(My books are at a distance) - t 
With you I '11 live and learn, and then 
Instead of books I shall read men, 

So lend me your assistance. 

• c Dear knight of Plympton (l), teach me how 
To suffer with unclouded brow 

And smile serene as thine, 
The jest uncouth and truth severe ; 
Like thee to turn my deafest ear, 

And calmly drink my wine. 

" Thou say'st not only skill is gain'd, 
But genius, too, may be attain'd, 

By studious invitation ; 
Thy temper mild, thy genius fine, 
I '11 study till I make them mine 

By constant meditation. 

" Thy art of pleasing teach me, Garrick, 
Thou who reverest odes Pindaric (2) 

A second time read o'er ; 
Oh ! could we read thee backwards too, 
Last thirty years thou shouldst review, 

And charm us thirty more. 

" If I have thoughts and can't express 'em, 
6"obon shall teach me how to dress 'em 

In terms select and terse ; 
Jones teach me modesty and Greek ; 
Smith, how to think ; Burke, how to speak ; 

And Beauclerk to converse. 



(1) Sir Joshua Reynolds was born at Plympton in Devon. 

(2) A humorous attempt of Garrick's to read one of Cum- 
berland's odes backwards. See ante, Vol. VI. p. 163. — C. 



218 JOHNSONIANA. 

" Let Johnson teach me how to place 
In fairest light each borrow'd grace ; 

From him I '11 learn to write ; 
Copy his free and easy style, 
And from the roughness of his file 
Grow, like himself, polite." 

3 43. Scepticism. 
Talking on the subject of scepticism, he said, " The 
eyes of the mind are like the eyes of the body ; they can 
see only at such a distance : but because we cannot see 
beyond this point, is there nothing beyond it ? " 

344. Want of Memory. 

Talking of the want of memory, he said, " No, Sir, 
it is not true ; in general every person has an equal 
capacity for reminiscence, and for one thing as well as 
another, otherwise it would be like a person complaining 
that he could hold silver in his hand, but could not hold 
copper.'' 

345. Genius. 

" No, Sir," he once said, fC people are not born with 
a particular genius for particular employments or studies, 
for it would be like saying that a man could see a great 
way east, but could not west. It is good sense applied 
with diligence to what was at first a mere accident, and 
which, by great application, grew to be called, by the 
generality of mankind, a particular genius." 

346. Imagination. 
Some person advanced, that a lively imagination dis- 
qualified the mind from fixing steadily upon objects 
which required serious and minute investigation. John- 
son. " It is true, Sir, a vivacious quick imagination 
does sometimes give a confused idea of things, and 
which do not fix deep, though, at the same time, he 
has a capacity to fix them in his memory, if he would 
endeavour at it. It being like a man that, when he is 



MISS REYNOLDS. 219 

running, does not make observations on what he meets 
with, and consequently is not impressed by them ; but 
he has, nevertheless, the power of stopping and inform- 
ing himself.' , 

347. Conscience and Shame. 
A gentleman was mentioning it as a remark of 
an acquaintance of his, u that he never knew but 
one person that was completely wicked/' Johnson. 
e Sir, I don't know what you mean by a person com- 
pletely wicked." Gentleman. " Why, any one that 
has entirely got rid of all shame." Johnson. " How 
is he, then, completely wicked ? He must get rid, too, 
of all conscience." Gentleman. " I think conscience 
and shame the same thing." Johnson. " I am sur- 
prised to hear you say so ; they spring from two dif- 
ferent sources, and are distinct perceptions: one respects 
this world, the other the next." A Lady. " I think, 
however, that a person who has got rid of shame is in 
a fair way to get rid of conscience." Johnson. " Yes, 'tis 
a part of the way, 1 grant ; but there are degrees at 
which men stop, some for the fear of men, some for the 
fear of God : shame arises from the fear of men, con- 
science from the fear of God/* 

348. Bennet Langton. 
Dr. Johnson seemed to delight in drawing charac- 
ters ; and when he did so con amove, delighted every 
one that heard him. Indeed, I cannot say I ever heard 
him draw any con odio, though he professed himself to 
be, or at least to love, a good hater. But I have re- 
marked that his dislike of any one seldom prompted 1dm 
to say much more than that the fellow is a blockhead, a 
poor creature, or some such epithet. I shall never 
forget the exalted character he drew of his friend Mr. 
Langton, nor with what energy, what fond delight, he 
expatiated in his praise, giving him every excellence 
that nature could bestow, and every perfection that 



220 JOHNSONIANA. 

humanity could acquire. ( ] ) A literary lady was pre- 
sent, Miss Hannah More, who perhaps inspired him 
with an unusual ardour to shine, which indeed he did 
with redoubled lustre, deserving himself the praises he 
bestowed : not but I have often heard him speak in 
terms equally high of Mr. Langton, though more con- 
cisely expressed. 

349. Mrs. Thrale. 
On the praises of Mrs. Thrale he used to dwell with 
a peculiar delight, a paternal fondness, expressive of 
conscious exultation in being so intimately acquainted 
with her. One day, in speaking of her to Mr. Harris, 
author of " Hermes," and expatiating on her various 
perfections, — the solidity of her virtues, the brilliancy 
of her wit, and the strength of her understanding, &c. 
— he quoted some lines (a stanza, I believe, but from 
what author I know not), with which he concluded his 
most eloquent eulogium, and of these I retained but 
the two last lines ( 2 ) : — 

" Virtues — of such a generous kind, 
Good in the last recesses of the mind." 

350. Johnsons Benevolence. 

It will doubtless appear highly paradoxical to the 
generality of the world to say, that few men, in his 
ordinary disposition, or common frame of mind, could 
be more inoffensive than Dr. Johnson ; yet surely those 
who knew his uniform benevolence, and its actuating 
principles — steady virtue, and true holiness — will 
readily agree with me, that peace and good- will towards 
man were the natural emanations of his heart. 

I shall never forget the impression I felt in Dr. 
Johnson's favour, the first time I was in his company, 

(1) See ante, Vol.VIII. p. 279 — C. 

(2) Being so particularly engaged as not to be able to attend 
to them sufficiently. — Miss Reynolds. 



MISS REYNOLDS. 221 

on his saying, that as he returned to his lodgings, at 
one or two o'clock in the morning, he often saw poor 
children asleep on thresholds and stalls, and that he 
used to put pennies into their hands to buy them a 
breakfast. ( ] ) 

351. Sunday. 
He always carried a religious treatise in his pocket 
on a Sunday, and he used to encourage me to relate to 
him the particular parts of Scripture I did not under- 
stand, and to write them down as they occurred to me 
in reading the Bible. 

352. Johnsons Recitation. 

When repeating to me one day Grainger's " Ode on 
Solitude/' 1 shall never forget the concordance of the 
sound of his voice with the grandeur of those images ; 
nor, indeed, the gothic dignity of his aspect, his 
look and manner, when repeating sublime passages. 
But what was very remarkable, though his cadence in 
reading poetry was so judiciously emphatical as to give 
additional force to the words uttered, yet in reading 
prose, particularly on common or familiar subjects, 
narrations, essays, letters, &c, nothing could be more 
injudicious than his manner, beginning every period 
with a pompous accent, and reading it with a whine, 
or with a kind of spasmodic struggle for utterance ; and 
this, not from any natural infirmity, but from a strange 
singularity, in reading on, in one breath, as if he had 
made a resolution not to respire till he had closed the 
sentence. 

353. Johnson's Gesticulations. 

I believe no one has described his extraordinary ges- 
tures or antics ( 2 ) with his hands and feet, particularly 

( 1 ) And this at a time when he himself was living on pennies. 

(2) Mr. Boswell frequently (Vol. I. p. 161, ; Vol. IV. p. 9.), 
and Mr. Whyte {ante, Vol. II. p. 280. ; Vol. V. p. 263.), have 



222 JOHNSONIANA. 

when passing over the threshold of a door, or rather be- 
fore he would venture to pass through any doorway. 
On entering Sir Joshua's house with poor Mrs. Wil- 
liams, a blind lady who lived with him, he would quit 
her hand, or else whirl her about on the steps as he 
whirled and twisted about to perform his gesticulations; 
and as soon as he had finished, he would give a sudden 
spring, and make such an extensive stride over the 
threshold, as if he was trying for a wager how far he 
could stride, Mrs. Williams standing groping about out- 
side the door, unless the servant took hold of her hand 
to conduct her in, leaving Dr. Johnson to perform at 
the parlour door much the same exercise over again. 

But it was not only at the entrance of a door that he 
exhibited such strange manoeuvres, but across a room or 
in the street with company, he has stopped on a sudden, 
as if he had recollected his task, and began to perform 
it there, gathering a mob round him ; and when he 
had finished would hasten to his companion (who pro- 
bably had walked on before) with an air of great satis- 
faction that he had done his duty. 

One Sunday morning, as I was walking with him 
in Twickenham meadows, he began his antics both with 
his feet and hands, with the latter as if he was holding 
the reins of a horse like a jockey on full speed. But 
to describe the strange positions of his feet is a difficult 
task ; sometimes he would make the back part of his 
heels to touch, sometimes his toes, as if he was aiming 
at making the form of a triangle, at least the two sides 
of one. Though indeed, whether these were his ges- 
tures on this particular occasion in Twickenham mea- 
dows I do not recollect, it is so long since ; but I well 
remember that they were so extraordinary that men, 

described his gestures very strikingly, though not quite in so 
much detail as Miss Reynolds. Mr. Boswell's descriptions she 
must have seen. — C. 



MISS REYNOLDS. 223 

women, and children gathered round him, laughing. At 
last we sat down on some logs of wood hy the river side, 
and they nearly dispersed ; when he pulled out of his 
pocket Grotius <c De Veritate Religionis" over which he 
seesawed at such a violent rate as to excite the curiosity 
of some people at a distance to come and see what was 
the matter with him. 

We drank tea that afternoon at Sir John Hawkins's, 
and on our return I was surprised to hear Dr. Johnson's 
minute criticism on Lady Hawkins's dress, with every 
part of which almost he found fault. It was amazing, 
so short-sighted as he was, how very ohservant he was 
of appearances in dress and behaviour, nay, even of the 
deportment of servants while waiting at table. One day, 
as his man Frank was attending at Sir Joshua Reynolds's 
table, he observed, with some emotion, that he had 
placed the salver under his arm. Nor would the con- 
duct of the company, blind as he was to his own many 
and strange peculiarities, escape his animadversion on 
some occasions. He thought the use of water-glasses 
a strange perversion of the idea of refinement, and had 
a great dislike to the use of a pocket-handkerchief at 
meals, when, if he happened to have occasion for one, 
he would rise from his chair and go to some distance, 
with his back to the company, and perform the oper- 
ation as silently as possible. 

354. Carving. — Johnson at Table. 

Few people, I have heard him say, understood the 
art of carving better than himself; but that it would be 
highly indecorous in him to attempt it in company, 
being so near-sighted, that it required a suspension of his 
breath during the operation. 

It must be owned, indeed, that it was to be regretted 
that he did not practise a little of that delicacy in eating, 
for he appeared to want breath more at that time than 
usual. It is certain that he did not appear to the best ad- 



224 J0HNS0N7ANA. 

vantage at the hour of repast ; but of this he was per- 
fectly unconscious, owing probably to his being totally 
ignorant of the characteristic expressions of the human 
countenance, and therefore he could have no conception 
that his own expressed when most pleased any thing 
displeasing to others; for though, when particularly 
directing his attention towards any object to spy out 
defects or perfections, he generally succeeded better than 
most men ; partly, perhaps, from a desire to excite ad- 
miration of his perspicacity, of which he was not a little 
ambitious — yet I have heard him say, and I have often 
perceived, that he could not distinguish any man's face 
half a yard distant from him, not even his most inti- 
mate acquaintance. 

That Dr. Johnson possessed the essential principles 
of politeness and of good taste (which I suppose are the 
same, at least concomitant), none who knew his virtues 
and his genius will, I imagine, be disposed to dispute. 
But why they remained with him, like gold in the ore, 
unfashioned and unseen, except in his literary capacity, 
no person that I know of has made any inquiry, though 
in general it has been spoken of as an unaccountable 
inconsistency in his character. Much, too, may be said 
in excuse for an apparent asperity of manners which 
was, at times at least, the natural effect of those inhe- 
rent mental infirmities to which he was subject. His 
corporeal defects also contributed largely to the singu- 
larity of his manners ; and a little reflection on the 
disqualifying influence of blindness and deafness would 
suggest many apologies for Dr. Johnson's want of po- 
liteness. 

The particular instance I have just mentioned, of his 
inability to discriminate the features of any one's face, 
deserves perhaps more than any other to be taken into 
consideration, wanting, as he did, the aid of those intel- 
ligent signs, or insinuations, which the countenance 
displays in social converse ; and which, in their slightest 



MISS REYNOLDS. 225 

degree, influence and regulate the manners of the polite, 
or even the common observer. And to hi6 defective 
hearing, perhaps, his unaccommodating manners may 
be equally ascribed, which not only precluded him from 
the perception of the expressive tones of the voice of 
others, but from hearing the boisterous sound of his 
own : and nothing, I believe, more conduced to fix 
upon his character the general stigma of ill-breeding, 
than his loud imperious tone of voice, which apparently 
heightened the slightest dissent to a tone of harsh re- 
proof; and, with his corresponding aspect, had an in- 
timidating influence on those who were not much 
acquainted with him, and excited a degree of resentment 
which his words in ordinary circumstances would not 
have provoked. I have often heard him on such occa- 
sions express great surprise, that what he had said could 
have given any offence. 

Under such disadvantages, it was not much to be 
wondered at that Dr. Johnson should have committed 
many blunders and absurdities, and excited surprise and 
resentment in company; one in particular I remember 
Being in company with Mr. Garrick and some others, 
who were unknown to Dr. Johnson, he was saying 
something tending to the disparagement of the character 
or of the works of a gentleman present — I have forgot 
which ; on which Mr. Garrick touched his foot under 
the table ; but he still went on, and Garrick, much 
alarmed, touched him a second time, and, I believe, the 
third ; at last Johnson exclaimed, " David, David, is it 
you ? What makes you tread on my toes so ? " This 
little anecdote, perhaps, indicates as much the want of 
prudence in Dr. Johnson as the want of sight. But 
had he at first seen Garrick' s expressive countenance, 
and (probably) the embarrassment of the rest of the com- 
pany on the occasion, it doubtless would not have hap- 
pened. 

It were also much to be wished, in justice to JDi. 
vol. ix- Q 



226 JOHNSONIANA. 

Johnson's character for good manners, that many jocu- 
lar and ironical speeches which have been reported had 
been noted as such, for the information of those who 
were unacquainted with him. 

Dr. Johnson was very ambitious of excelling in 
common acquirements, as well as the uncommon, and 
particularly in feats of activity. One day, as he was 
walking in Gunisbury Park (or Paddock) with some 
gentlemen and ladies, who were admiring the extra- 
ordinary size of some of the trees, one of the gentlemen 
remarked that, when he was a boy, he made nothing 
of climbing (swarming, I think, was the phrase) the 
largest there. " Why, I can swarm it now," replied 
Dr. Johnson, which excited a hearty laugh — (he was 
then between fifty and sixty) ; on which he ran to the 
tree, clung round the trunk, and ascended to the 
branches, and, I believe, would have gone in amongst 
them, had he not been very earnestly entreated to de- 
scend ; and down he came with a triumphant air, seem- 
ing to make nothing of it. 

At another time, at a gentleman's seat in Devonshire, 
as he and some company were sitting in a saloon, before 
which was a spacious lawn, it was remarked as a very 
proper place for running a race. A young lady present 
boasted that she could outrun any person ; on which 
Dr. Johnson rose up and said, iC Madam, you cannot 
outrun me ; " and, going out on the lawn, they started. 
The lady at first had the advantage ; but Dr. Johnson 
happening to have slippers on much too small for his 
feet, kicked them off up into the air, and ran a great 
length without them, leaving the lady far behind him, 
and, having won the victory, he returned, leading her 
by the hand, with looks of high exultation and de- 

light, (i) 

Though it cannot be said that he was et in manners 

(^l) This exhibition occurred during his visit to Devonshire 
111 1762, at the house of the lady to whom he made the avowal 
mentioned ante^ Vol. II. p. 148. — C. 



MISS REYNOLDS. 227 

gentle," yet it justly can that he was C( in affections 
mild/' benevolent, and compassionate ; and to this com- 
bination of character may, I believe, be ascribed, in a 
great measure, his extraordinary celebrity ; his being 
beheld as a phenomenon or wonder of the age. 

And yet Dr. Johnson's character, singular as it cer- 
tainly was from the contrast of his mental endowments 
with the roughness of his manners, was, I believe, per- 
fectly natural and consistent throughout ; and to those 
who were intimately acquainted with him must, I 
imagine, have appeared so. For being totally devoid of 
all deceit, free from every tinge of affectation or osten- 
tation, and un warped by any vice, his singularities, 
those strong lights and shades that so peculiarly dis- 
tinguish his character, may the more easily be traced to 
their primary and natural causes. 

The luminous parts of his character, his soft affec- 
tions, and I should suppose his strong intellectual 
powers, at least the dignified charm or radiancy of 
them, must be allowed to owe their origin to his strict, 
his rigid principles of religion and virtue ; and the 
shadowy parts of his character, his rough, unaccom- 
modating manners, were in general to be ascribed to 
those corporeal defects that I have already observed 
naturally tended to darken his perceptions of what may 
be called propriety and impropriety in general con- 
versation ; and of course in the ceremonious or artificial 
sphere of society gave his deportment so contrasting an 
aspect to the apparent softness and general uniformity 
of cultivated manners. 

And perhaps the joint influence of these two primeval 
causes, his intellectual excellence and his corporeal 
defects, mutually contributed to give his manners a 
greater degree of harshness than they would have had 
if only under the influence of one of them ; the im- 
perfect perceptions of the one not unfrequently pro- 
ducing misconceptions in the other. 
Q 2 



228 JOHNSONIANA. 

Besides these, many other equally natural causes 
concurred to constitute the singularity of Dr. Johnson s 
character. Doubtless, the progress of his education had 
a double tendency to brighten and to obscure it. But I 
must observe, that this obscurity (implying only his 
awkward uncouth appearance, his ignorance of the rules 
of politeness, Sec.) would have gradually disappeared at 
a more advanced period, at least could have had no 
manner of influence to the prejudice of Dr. Johnson's 
character, had it not been associated with those corporeal 
defects above mentioned. But, unhappily, his untaught, 
uncivilised manner seemed to render every little in- 
decorum or impropriety that he committed doubly in- 
decorous and improper. 



Part VII. 



ANECDOTES OF DR. JOHNSON, 
BY MR. CUMBERLAND, (i) 



355. Johnson at the Tea-table. 
At the tea-table he had considerable demands upon 
his favourite beverage, and I remember when Sir Joshua 
Reynolds at my house reminded him that he had drunk 
eleven cups, he replied, "Sir, I did not count your 
glasses of wine, why should you number up my cups of 
tea ? " And then laughing, in perfect good-humour he 
added, " Sir, I should have released the lady from any 
further trouble, if it had not been for your remark ; but 
you have reminded me that I want one of the dozen, 
and I must request Mrs. Cumberland to round up my 
(1) From Mr. Cumberland's Memoirs. 



CUMBERLAND. 229 

number." When he saw the readiness and compla- 
cency with which my wife obeyed his call, he turned a 
kind and cheerful look upon her, and said, (i Madam, I 
must tell you for your comfort, you have escaped much 
better than a certain lady did awhile ago, upon whose 
patience I intruded greatly more than I have done on 
yours ; but the lady asked me for no other purpose than 
to make a zany of me, and set me gabbling to a parcel 
of people I knew nothing of ; so. Madam, I had my 
revenge of her ; for I swallowed five-and-twenty cups 
of her tea, and did not treat her with as many words." 
I can only say my wife would have made tea for him 
as long as the New River could have supplied her with 
water. 

It was on such occasions he was to be seen in his 
happiest moments, when, animated by the cheering at- 
tention of friends whom he liked, he would give full 
scope to those talents for narration in which I verily 
think he was unrivalled, both in the brilliancy of his 
wit, the flow of his humour, and the energy of his lan- 
guage. Anecdotes of times past, scenes of his own life, 
and characters of humorists, enthusiasts, crack-brained 
projectors, and a variety of strange beings that he had 
chanced upon, when detailed by him at length, and 
garnished with those episodical remarks, sometimes 
comic, sometimes grave, which he would throw in with 
infinite fertility of fancy, were a treat, which, though 
not always to be purchased by five-and-twenty cups of 
tea, I have often had the happiness to enjoy for less 
than half the number. 

He was easily led into topics : it was not easy to turn 
him from them ; but who would wish it ? If a man 
wanted to show himself off by getting up and riding 
upon him, he was sure to run restive and kick him off; 
you might as safely have backed Bucephalus, before 
Alexander had lunged him. Neither did he always 
like to be over-fondled : when a certain gentleman out- 
Q 3 



230 JOHNSONIANS. 

acted his part in this way, he is said to have demanded 
of him, M What provokes your risibility, Sir ? Have I 
said any thing that you understand ? Then I ask par- 
don of the rest of the company/' But this is Hen- 
derson's anecdote of him, and I won't swear he did not 
nake it himself. The following apology, however, I 
myself drew from him : when speaking of his Tour, I 
observed to him upon some passages, as rather too sharp 
upon a country and people who had entertained him so 
handsomely : " Do you think so, Cumbey ? " he replied ; 
i( then I give you leave to say, and you may quote me 
for it, that there are more gentlemen in Scotland than 
there are shoes." 

356. " She Stoops to Conquer'' 
When Mr. Colman, then manager of Covent Garden 
theatre, protested against Goldsmith's last comedy, when 
as yet he had not struck upon a name for it, Johnson 
stood forth in all his terrors as champion for the piece, 
and backed by us, his clients and retainers, demanded 
a fair trial. Colman again protested ; but, with that 
salvo for his own reputation, liberally lent his stage to 
one of the most eccentric productions that ever found 
its way to it, and " She Stoops to Conquer" was put 
into rehearsal. 

We were not over-sanguine of success, but perfectly 
determined to struggle hard for our author. We ac- 
cordingly assembled our strength at the Shakspeare 
Tavern in a considerable body for an early dinner, 
where Samuel Johnson took the chair at the head of a 
long table, and was the life and soul of the corps : the 
poet took post silently by his side, with the Burkes, Sir 
Joshua Reynolds, Fitzherbert ( ! ), Caleb Whitefoord, 
and a phalanx of North- British predetermined ap- 

(1) A mistake. " She Stoops to Conquer" was played on 
Monday, the 15th March, 1773. Mr. Fitzherbert died earlv in 
1772. — C. 



CUMBERLAND. 281 

plauders under the banner of Major Mills, all good men 
and true. Our illustrious friend was in inimitable glee, 
and poor Goldsmith that day took all his raillery as 
patiently and complacently as my^ friend Boswell would 
have done any day, or every day of his life. In the 
mean time, we did not forget our duty ; and though we 
had a better comedy going on, in which Johnson was 
chief actor, we betook ourselves in good time to our 
separate and allotted posts, and waited the awful draw- 
ing up of the curtain. As our stations were precon- 
certed, so were our signals for plaudits arranged and 
determined upon, in a manner that gave every one his 
cue where to look for them, and how to follow them up. 
We had amongst us a very worthy and efficient 
member, long since lost to his friends and the world at 
large, Adam Drummond, of amiable memory, who was 
gifted by nature with the most sonorous, and at the same 
time the most contagious laugh, that ever echoed from 
the human lungs. The neighing of the horse of the 
son of Hystaspes was a whisper to it ; the whole thun- 
der of the theatre could not drown it. This kind and 
ingenuous friend fairly forewarned us, that he knew no 
more when to give his fire than the cannon did that 
was planted on a battery. He desired therefore to have 
a flapper at his elbow, and I had the honour to be de- 
puted to that office. I planted him in an upper box, 
pretty nearly over the stage, in full view of the pit and 
galleries, and perfectly well situated to give the echo 
all its play through the hollows and recesses of the 
theatre. The success of our manoeuvres was complete. 
All eyes were upon Johnson, who sat in the front row 
of a side box, and when he laughed, every body thought 
themselves warranted to roar. In the mean time, my 
friend Drummond followed signals with a rattle so irre- 
sistibly comic, that, when he had repeated it several 
times, the attention of the spectators was so engrossed 
by his person and performances, that the progress of 
q 4 



232 JOHNSONIANA. 

the play seemed likely to become a secondary object, 
and I found it prudent to insinuate to him that he might 
halt his music without any prejudice to the author : 
but, alas ! it was now too late to rein him in ; he had 
laughed upon my signal where he found no joke, and 
now unluckily he fancied that he found a joke in almost 
every thing that was said ; so that nothing in nature 
could be more mal-a-propos than some of his bursts 
every now and then were. These were dangerous mo- 
ments, for the pit began to take umbrage ; but we car- 
ried our play through, and triumphed not only over 
Colman's judgment, but our own. 

357. Garrick and Johnson, 
Garrick was followed to the Abbey by a long -ex- 
tended train of friends, illustrious for their rank and 
genius. I saw old Samuel Johnson standing beside his 
grave, at the foot of Shakspeare's monument, and bathed 
in tears. A few succeeding years laid him in earth ; 
and though the marble shall preserve for ages the exact 
resemblance of his form and features, his own strong 
pen has pictured out a transcript of his mind, that shall 
outlive that and the very language which he laboured 
to perpetuate. Johnson's best days were dark; and 
only when his life was far in the decline, he enjoyed a 
gleam of fortune long withheld. Compare him with 
his countryman and contemporary last mentioned, and 
it will be one instance among many, that the man who 
only brings the muse's bantlings into the world has a 
better lot in it than he who has the credit of begetting 
them. 

Shortly after Garrick V death, Dr. Johnson was told 
in a large company, " You are recent from your < Lives 
of the Poets : ' why not add your friend Garrick to the 
number?" Johnson's answer was, " I do not like to 
be officious ; but if Mrs. Garrick will desire me to do 
it, I shall be very willing to pay that last tribute to the 



CUMBERLAND. 233 

memory of the man I loved." This sentiment was 
conveyed to Mrs. Garrick, but no answer was ever re- 
ceived. 

358. Character of Johnson. 

Alas ! I am not fit to paint his character ; nor is 
there need of it ; etiam mortuus loquitur ; every man, 
who can buy a book, has bought a Boswell. Johnson 
is known to all the reading world. I also knew him 
well, respected him highly, loved him sincerely : it was 
never my chance to see him in those moments of mo- 
roseness and ill-humour which are imputed to him, 
perhaps with truth ; for who would slander him ? But 
I am not warranted by any experience of those humours 
to speak of him otherwise than of a friend, who always 
met me with kindness, and from whom I never separated 
without regret. When I sought his company he had 
no capricious excuses for withholding it, but lent him- 
self to every invitation with cordiality, and brought 
good-humour with him, that gave life to the circle he 
was in. 

He presented himself always in his fashion of ap- 
parel : a brown coat with metal buttons, black waistcoat 
and worsted stockings, with a flowing bob wig, was the 
style of his wardrobe ; but they were in perfectly good 
trim, and with the ladies, whom he generally met, he 
had nothing of the slovenly philosopher about him. He 
fed heartily, but not voraciously, and was extremely 
courteous in his commendations of any dish that pleased 
his palate : he suffered his next neighbour to squeeze 
the China oranges into his wine glass after dinner ; which 
else perchance had gone aside and trickled into his 
shoes, for the good man had neither straight sight nor 
steady nerves. 

Who will say that Johnson would have been such a 
champion in literature — such a front-rank soldier in 
the fields of fame — if he had not been pressed into the 
service, and driven on to glory with the bayonet of 



234 JOHNSONIANA. 

sharp necessity pointed at his back ? If fortune had 
turned him into a field of clover, he would have lain 
down and rolled in it. The mere manual labour of 
writing would not have allowed his lassitude and love 
of ease to have taken the pen out of the inkhorn, unless 
the cravings of hunger had reminded him, that he must 
fill the sheet before he saw the table-cloth. He might, 
indeed, have knocked down Osborne for a blockhead, 
but he would not have knocked him down with a folio 
of his own writing. He would/ perhaps, have been the 
dictator of a club, and wherever he sat down to con- 
versation, there must have been that splash of strong 
bold thought about him, that we might still have had a 
collectanea after his death ; but of prose I guess not 
much, of works of labour none, of fancy perhaps some- 
thing more, especially of poetry, which, under favour, 
I conceive was not his tower of strength. I think we 
should have had his " Rasselas" at all events ; for he was 
likely enough to have written at Voltaire, and brought 
the question to the test, if infidelity is any aid to wit. 
An orator he must have been ; not improbably a par- 
liamentarian, and, if such, certainly an oppositionist, 
for he preferred to talk against the tide. He would 
indubitably have been no member of the Whig Club, 
no partisan of Wilkes, no friend of Hume, no believer 
in Macpherson : he would have put up prayers for 
early rising, and lain in bed all day, and with the most 
active resolutions possible been the most indolent mortal 
living. He was a good man by nature, a great man 
by genius ; we are now to inquire what he was by 
compulsion. 

Johnson's first style was naturally energetic, his 
middle style was turgid to a fault, his latter style was 
softened down and harmonised into periods, more tune- 
ful and more intelligible. His execution was rapid, 
yet his mind was not easily provoked into exertion : the 
variety we find in his writings was not the varWy of 



CUxMBERLAND. 235 

choice arising from the impulse of his proper genius, 
but tasks imposed upon him by the dealers in ink, and 
contracts on his part submitted to in satisfaction of the 
pressing calls of hungry want ; for, painful as it is to 
relate, I have heard that illustrious scholar assert (and 
he never varied from the truth of fact), that he sub- 
sisted himself for a considerable space of time upon the 
scanty pittance of four-pence halfpenny per day. 

The expanse of matter which Johnson had found 
room for in his intellectual storehouse, the correctness 
with which he had assorted it, and the readiness with 
which he could turn to any article that he wanted to 
make present use of, were the properties in him which 
I contemplated with the most admiration. Some have 
called him a savage ; they were only so far right in the 
resemblance, as that, like the savage, he never came 
into suspicious company without his spear in his hand 
and his bow and quiver at his back. In conclusion, 
Johnson's era was not wanting in men to be distin- 
guished for their talents ; yet if one was to be selected 
out as the first great literary character of the time, I 
believe all voices would concur in naming him. Let 
me here insert the following lines, descriptive of his 
character : — 

ON SAMUEL JOHNSON. 

Herculean strength and a Stentorian voice, 
Of wit a fund, of words a countless choice : 
In learning rather various than profound, 
In truth intrepid, in religion sound : 
A trembling form and a distorted sight, 
But firm in judgment and in genius bright ; 
In controversy seldom known to spare, 
But humble as the publican in prayer ; 
To more than merited his kindness, kind, 
And, though in manners harsh, of friendly mind; 
Deep tinged with melancholy's blackest shade, 
And, though prepared to die, of death afraid — 
Such Johnson was ; of him with justice vain, 
When will this nation see his like again ? 



236 JOHNSONIANA. 



Part VIII. 



ANECDOTES OF DR. JOHNSON, 
BY MR. CRADOCK. (») 



359. <' (Edipus." 

The first time I dined in company with Dr. Johnson 
was at T. Davies's, Russell Street, Covent Garden, as 
mentioned by Mr. Bos well, in his cc Life of John- 
son." ( 2 ) On mentioning my engagement previously to 
a friend, he said, " Do you wish to be well with John- 
son?" <c To be sure, Sir," I replied, iC ov I should not 
have taken any pains to have been introduced into his 
company." <c Why then, Sir," says he, " let me offer 
you some advice : you must not leave him soon after 
dinner to go to the play ; during dinner he will be 
rather silent — it is a very serious business with him ; 
between six and seven he will look about him, and see 
who remains, and, if he then at all likes the party, he 
will be very civil and communicative." He exactly 
fulfilled what my friend had prophesied. Mrs. Davies 
did the honours of the table : she was a favourite with 
Johnson, who sat betwixt her and Dr. Harwood ; " I 
sat next, below, to Mr. Boswell opposite. Nobody 
could bring Johnson forward more civilly or properly 
than Davies. The subject of conversation turned upon 

(1) From Mr. Cradock's Memoirs. These anecdotes are 
certainly very loose and inaccurate ; but, as they have been re- 
published in the Gentleman's Magazine for January, 1828, 
" with some corrections and additions from the author's MS.," 
I think it right to notice them ; and, as they profess to be there 
enlarged from the MS., I copy this latter version, which differs, 

n some points, from the Memoirs, — C. 

(2) [See ante, Vol. VI. p. 157-1 



CRADOCK. 237 

the tragedy of " CEdipus." (') This was particularly in- 
teresting to me, as I was then employed in endeavour- 
ing to make such alterations in Dryden's play, as to 
make it suitable to a revival at Drury Lane theatre. 
Johnson did not seem to think favourably of it ; but I 
ventured to plead^ that Sophocles wrote it expressly for 
the theatre, at the public cost, and that it was one of 
the most celebrated dramas of all antiquity. Johnson 
said, " CEdipus was a poor miserable man, subjected to 
the greatest distress, without any degree of culpability 
of his own." I urged, that Aristotle, as well as most of 
the Greek poets, were partial to this character ; that 
Addison considered that, as terror and pity were parti- 
cularly excited, he was the properest here Johnson 

suddenly becoming loud, I paused, and rather apologised 
that it might not become me, perhaps, too strongly to 
contradict Dr. Johnson. " Nay, Sir," replied he, has- 
tily, " if I had not wished to have heard your argu- 
ments_, I should not have disputed with you at all." 
All went on quite pleasantly afterwards. We sat late, 
and something being mentioned about my going to 
Bath, when taking leave, Johnson very graciously said, 
" I should have a pleasure in meetftig you there." 
Either Boswell or Davies immediately whispered to me, 
" You 're landed." 

360. Garrick. — Burke. — Goldsmith. 
The next time I had the pleasure of meeting him was 
at the Literary Club( 2 ) dinner at the coffee-house in 

(1 ) Boswell says it turned on Aristotle's opinion of the Greek 
tragedy in general ; which may, however, have led to the sub- 
ject of CEdipus, though he doe's not notice it. — C. 

(2) Here seeins to be a mistake. No stranger is ever invited 
to the Club. It is probable that Mr. Cradock mistook an occa- 
sional meeting at the St. James's coffee-house (such a one did 
really produce " Retaliation") for a meeting of the Club. Mr. 
Colman, in his " Random Records," makes the same mistake, and 
wonders at finding noticed in " Retaliation" persons who did not 
belong to the Club. — C. 



23S JOHNSONIANA. 

St. James's Street, to which I was Introduced by my 
partial friend, Dr. Percy. Johnson that day was not in 
very good humour. We rather waited for dinner. 
Garrick came late, and apologised that he had been to 
the House of Lords, and Lord Camden insisted on con- 
veying him in his carriage : Johnson said nothing, but 
he looked a volume. The party was numerous. I sat 
next Mr. Burke at dinner. There was a beef-steak pie 
placed just before us ; and I remarked to Mr. Burke 
that something smelt very disagreeable, and looked to 
see if there was not a dog under the table. Burke, with 
great good humour, said, " I believe, Sir, I can tell you 
what is the cause ; it is some of my country butter in 
the crust that smells so disagreeably." Dr. Johnson 
just at that time, sitting opposite, desired one of us to 
send him some of the beef- steak pie. We sent but 
little, which he soon despatched, and then returned his 
plate for more. Johnson particularly disliked that any 
notice should be taken of what he eat, but Burke ven- 
tured to say he was glad to find that Dr. Johnson was 
anywise able to relish the beef- steak pie. Johnson, 
not perceiving what he alluded to, hastily exclaimed, 
" Sir, there is a time of life when a man requires the 
repairs of the table ! " The company rather talked for 
victory than social intercourse. I think it was in con- 
sequence of what passed that evening, that Dr. Gold- 
smith wrote his cc Retaliation." Mr. Richard Burke ( ! ) 
was present, talked most, and seemed to be the most free 
and easy of any of the* company. I had never met 
him before. Burke seemed desirous of bringing his re- 
lative forward. In Mr. Chalmers's account of Gold- 
smith, different sorts of liquor are offered as appropriate 
to each guest. To the two Burkes ale from Wicklow, 
and wine from Ferney to me: my name is in italics, 
as supposing I am a wine-bibber ; but the author's allu- 

(1) Mr. Richard Burke, collector, of Grenada, the brother, 
not the son, of Mr. Burke C. 



CRADOCK. 239 

sion to the wines of Ferney was meant for me, I rather 
think, from my having taken a plan of a tragedy from 
Voltaire. 

36l. Mrs. Percy. — Easton Mauduit. 
Mrs. Percy, afterwards nurse to the Duke of Kent, 
at Buckingham House, told me that Johnson once 
stayed near a month with them at their dull Parsonage 
at Easton Mauduit Q) ; that Dr. Percy looked out all 
sorts of books to be ready for his amusement after 
breakfast, and that Johnson was so attentive and polite 
to her, that, when Dr. Percy mentioned the literature 
proposed in the study,, he said, u No, Sir, I shall first 
wait upon Mrs. Percy to feed the ducks." But those 
halcyon days were about to change, — not as to Mrs. 
Percy, for to the last she remained a favourite with him. 

362. Dr. Percys Charity Sermon. — " The Idler" 
I happened to be in London once when Dr. Percy 
returned from Northumberland, and found that he was 
expected to preach a charity sermon almost immediately. 
This had escaped his memory, and he said, that 
" though much fatigued, he had been obliged to sit up 
very late to furnish out something from former dis- 
courses ; but, suddenly recollecting that Johnson's fourth 
" Idler" (-) was exactly to his purpose, he had freely en- 
grafted the greatest part of it." He preached, and his 
discourse was much admired ; but being requested to 
print it, he most strenuously opposed the honour in- 
tended him, till he was assured by the governors, that 
it was absolutely necessary, as the annual contributions 
greatly depended on the account that was given in the 
appendix. In this dilemma, he earnestly requested that 

( 1 ) [In the summer of 1764, Johnson paid a visit to Dr. Percy 
at his vicarage in Easton Mauduit, and spent parts of the months 
of June, July and August with him.] 

(2) [On Charities and Hospitals. ] 



240 JOHNSONIANA. 

I would call upon Dr. Johnson, and state particulars. 
I assented, and endeavoured to introduce the subject 
with all due solemnity; but Johnson was highly di- 
verted with his recital, and, laughing, said, <e Pray, Sir, 
give my kind respects to Dr. Percy, and tell him, I 
desire he will do whatever he pleases in regard to my 
' Idler ; ' it is entirely at his service." 

363. Gibbon. 
But these days of friendly communication were, from 
various causes, speedily to pass away, and worse than 
indifference to succeed ; for, one morning Dr. Percy said 
to Mr. Cradock, " I have not seen Dr. Johnson for a 
long time I believe I must just call upon him, and 
greatly wish that you would accompany me. I in- 
tend," said he, " to tease him a little about Gibbon's 
pamphlet." " I hope not, Dr. Percy," was my reply. 
" Indeed I shall ; for I have a great pleasure in 
combating his narrow prejudices." We went toge- 
ther ; and Dr. Percy opened with some anecdotes from 
Northumberland House ; mentioned some rare books 
that were in the library ; and then threw out that the 
town rang with applause of Gibbon's u Reply to 
Davis ; " that the latter ' e had written before he had 
read," and that the two " confederate doctors," as Mr. 
Gibbon termed them, " had fallen into some strange 
errors." Johnson said, he knew nothing of Davis's 
pamphlet, nor would he give him any answer as to 
Gibbon ; but, if the iC confederate doctors/' as they 
were termed, had really made such mistakes as he 
alluded to, they were blockheads. Dr. Percy talked on 
in the most careless style possible, but in a very lofty 
tone ; and Johnson appeared to be excessively angry. 
I only wished to get released : for, if Dr. Percy had 
proceeded to inform him, that he had lately introduced 
Mr. Hume to dine at the King's chaplains table, there 
must have been an explosion. 



CRADOCK. 241 

364<. " The Hermit of Warkworth." 
With all my partiality for Johnson, I freely declare, 
that I think Dr. Percy received very great cause to 
take real offence at one, who, hy a ludicrous parody 
on a stanza in the " Hermit of Warkworth," had ren- 
dered him contemptible. It was urged, that Johnson 
only meant to attack the metre ; but he certainly turned 
the whole poem into ridicule : — 

" I put my hat upon my head, 
And walk'd into the Strand, 
And there I met another man 
With his hat in his hand." 

Mr Garrick, in a letter to me, soon afterwards asked 
me, u Whether I had seen Johnson's criticism on the 
' Hermit ?' it is already," said he, "over half the 
town," Almost the last time that I ever saw Johnson, 
he said to me, " Notwithstanding all the pains that Dr. 
Farmer and I took to serve Dr. Percy, in regard to his 
e Ancient Ballads/ he has left town for Ireland ( j ), 
without taking leave of either of us." 

365. Roocana and Statira. 
Mr. Nichols, in his entertaining " Literary Anec- 
dotes," has justly remarked, that Johnson was not always 
that surly companion he was supposed to be, and gives 
as an instance rather an impertinent joke of mine about 
Alexander and his two queens, and Johnson's good- 
humoured reply, that " in his family it had never been 
ascertained which was Roxana and which was Sta- 
tira ( 2 ) ; " but I then had got experience, and pretty well 
knew when I might safely venture into the lion's mout&. 

p.) See ante, p. 194. Dr. Percy was made Bishop of Dro- 

more in 1782. — C. 

(2) Mrs. Williams and Mrs. Desmoulins. — C. 
vol. IX. R 



242 JOHNSONIANA. 

366. " Baiting the Bear" 
Admiral Walsingham, who sometimes resided a 
Windsor, and sometimes in Portugal Street, frequently 
boasted that he was the only man to bring together 
miscellaneous parties, and make them all agreeable ; 
and, indeed, there never before was so strange an assort- 
ment as I have occasionally met there. At one of his 
dinners, were the Duke of Cumberland ( J ), Dr. Johnson, 
Mr. Nairn, the optician, and Mr. Leoni, the singer : at 
another, Dr. Johnson, &c., and a young dashing officer, 
who determined, he whispered, to attack the old bear 
that we seemed all to stand in awe of. There was a 
good dinner, and during that important time Johnson 
was deaf to all impertinence. However, after the wine 
had passed rather freely, the young gentleman was re- 
solved to bait him, and yenture out a little further. 
e( Now, Dr. Johnson, do not look so glum, but be a 
little gay and lively, like others : what would you give, 
old gentleman, to be as young and sprightly as I am ? " 
" Why, Sir," said he, " I think I would almost be con- 
tent to be as foolish." 

367. Society. — Late Hours. — Clubs. 
Johnson, it is well known, professed to recruit his 
acquaintance with younger persons, and, in his latter 
days, I, with a few others, were more frequently ho- 
noured by his notice. At times he was very gloomy, 
and would exclaim, <£ Stay with me, for it is a comfort 
to me" — a comfort that any feeling mind would wish 
to administer to a man so kind, though at times so 
boisterous, when he seized your hand, and repeated, 
" Ay, Sir, but to die and go we know not where," &c. 

(1) It is possible Dr. Johnson may have been acquainted 
with the Hon. Robert Boyle, who took the name of Walsing- 
ham; but it is hardly possible that Dr. Johnson should have 
met the Duke of Cumberland at dinner without Mr. Boswell's 
having mentioned it. — C. 



CRADOCK. 243 

— here his morbid melancholy prevailed, and Garnck 
never spoke so impressively to the heart. Yet, to see 
him in the evening (though he took nothing stronger 
than lemonade), a stranger would have concluded that 
our morning account was a fabrication. No hour was 
too late to keep him from the tyranny of his own gloomy 
thoughts. A gentleman venturing to say to Johnson, 
" Sir, I wonder sometimes that you condescend so far 
as to attend a city club/' " Sir, the great chair of a 
full and pleasant club is, perhaps, the throne of human 
felicity." 

368. Lives of the Poets. 
I had not the honour to be at all intimate with 
Johnson till about the time he began to publish his 
Lives of the Poets ; and how he got through that 
arduous labour is, in some measure, still a mystery to 
me : he must have been greatly assisted by booksel- 
lers. ( ] ) I had some time before lent him " Euripides" 
with Milton's manuscript notes : this, though he did 
not minutely examine (see Joddrel's " ^uripides"), y e t 
he very handsomely returned it, and mentioned it in his 
Life of Milton. ( 2 ) In the course of conversation one 
day I dropped out to him, that Lord Harborough ( 3 ) 
(then the Rev.) was in possession of a very valuable 
collection of manuscript poems, and that amongst them 
there were two or three in the handwriting of King 
James I. ; that they were bound up handsomely in 
folio, and were entitled " Sackville's Poems." These 
he solicited me to borrow for him, and Lord Harbo- 
rough very kindly* intrusted them to me for his perusal. 

(1) The original MS. is still extant, and it appears that he 
had very little assistance, and none at all from the booksellers. 

— C. 

(2) " His * Euripides' is, by Mr. Cradock's kindness, now in 
my hands : the margin is sometimes noted, but I have found 
nothing remarkable." — Life of Milton. — C. 

(3) The Rev. Robert Sherrard, who became on the death 
of his elder brother, in 1770, fourth Earl of Harborough. — C. 

B 2 



244 JOHNSONIAN A. 

369. Harris* s Hermes. — Trist?am Shandy. 
Harris's Hermes was mentioned. I said, " I think the 
book is too abstruse ; it is heavy." " It is ; but a work 
of that kind must be heavy." " A rather dull man of 
my acquaintance asked me/' said I, <( to lend him some 
book to entertain him, and I offered him Harris's 
Hermes, and as I expected, from the title, he took 
it for a novel ; when he returned it, I asked him how 
he liked it, and, what he thought of it ? ' Why, to 
speak the truth/ says he, * I was not much diverted ; 
I think all these imitations of Tristram Shandy fall 
far short of the original ! ' " This had its effect, and 
almost produced from Johnson a rhinocerous laugh. 

370. A rude Speech. 

One of Dr. Johnson's rudest speeches was to a pomp- 
ous gentleman coming out of Lichfield cathedral, who 
said, " Dr. Johnson, we have had a most excellent dis- 
course to-day ! " " That may be," said Johnson ; u but, 
it is impossible that you should know it." 

Of his kindness to me during the last years of his 
most valuable life, I could enumerate many instances. 
One slight circumstance, if any were wanting, would 
give an excellent proof of the goodness of his heart, and 
that to a person whom he found in distress. In such a 
case he was the very last man that would have given 
even the least momentary uneasiness to any one, had 
he been aware of it. The last time I saw him was just 
before I went to France. He said, with a deep sigh, " I 
wish I was going with you." He had just then been 
disappointed of going to Italy. Of ail men I ever knew, 
Dr. Johnson was the most instructive. 



wickins. 245 



Part IX. 



ANECDOTES OF DR. JOHNSON, 

BY MR. WICKINS. (0 



371. Deception. 
Walking one day with him in my garden at Lich- 
field, we entered a small meandering shrubbery, whose 
'' vista not lengthened to the sight/' gave promise of a 
larger extent. I observed, that he might perhaps con- 
ceive that he was entering an extensive labyrinth, but 
that it would prove a deception, though I hoped not an 
unpardonable one. " Sir," said he, " don't tell me of 
deception ; a lie, Sir, is a lie, whether it be a lie to the 
eye or a lie to the ear." 

372. Urns. 
Passing on we came to an urn which I had erected 
to the memory of a deceased friend. I asked him how 
he liked that urn — it was of the true Tuscan order. 
" Sir," said he, " I hate urns ( 2 ) ; they are nothing, 
they mean nothing, convey no ideas but ideas of horror 
— would they were beaten to pieces to pave our streets ! " 

SIS. Cold Baths. 
We then came to a cold bath. I expatiated upon 
its salubrity. * Sir/ 5 said he, " how do you do ? " 

(1) Dr. Harwood informs me that Mr. "Wickins was a re- 
spectable draper in Lichfield. It is very true that Dr. Johnson 
was accustomed to call on him during his visits to his native 
to#n. The garden attached to his house was ornamented in 
tho manner he describes, and no doubt was ever entertained of 
the exactness of his anecdotes — C. 

^2) See a similar sentiment on the occasion of Mr.Myddie* 
tons urn to himself, ante. Vol. IV. p. 2. — C. 

r 3 



246 JOHNSONIANA. 

< f Very well, I thank you, Doctor." " Then, Sir, let 
well enough alone, and be content. I hate immersion." 
Truly, as Falstaff says, the Doctor " would have a sort 
of alacrity at sinking." ( J ) 

374. The Venus de 9 Medick. 

Upon the margin stood the Venus de' Medicis — 

" So stands the statue that enchants the world." 

" Throw her," said he, cc into the pond to hide her 
nakedness, aud to cool her lasciviousness." 

375. Arcadia. 
He then, with some difficulty, squeezed himself into 
a root-house, when his eye caught the following lines 
from Parnell : — 

" Go search among your idle dreams, 
Your busy, or your vain extremes, 
And find a life of equal bliss, 
Or own the next began in this." 

The Doctor, however, not possessing any silvan ideas, 
seemed not to admit that heaven could be an Arcadia* 

376. Doing Good. 
I then observed him with Herculean strength tug- 
ging at a nail which he was endeavouring to extract 
from the bark of a plum tree ; and having accomplished 
it, he exclaimed, " There, Sir, I have done some good 
to-day ; the tree might have festered. I make a rule, 
Sir, to do some good every day of my life." 

377- Sterne's Sermons. 
Returning through the house, he stepped into a small 
study or book-room. The first book he laid his .hands 

(1) A mistake — he was a good swimmer. See ante, Vol. VI. 
p. 218.— C. 



wickins. 247 

upon was Harwood's ( ] ) " Liberal Translation of the 
New Testament." The passage which first caught his 
eye was from that sublime apostrophe in St. John, upon 
the raising of Lazarus, " Jesus wept;" which Har- 
wood had conceitedly rendered " and Jesus, the Saviour 
of the world, burst into a flood of tears." He con- 
temptuously threw the book aside, exclaiming, ' ' Puppy !" 
I then showed him Sterne's Sermons. " Sir," said he, 
" do you ever read any others ? " " Yes, Doctor ; 
I read Sherlock, Tillotson, Beveridge, and others." 
" Ay, Sir, there you drink the cup of salvation to the 
bottom ; here you have merely the froth from the 
surface." 



378. Shakspeare's Mulberry Vase. — Gar rick. 
Within this room stood the Shakspearean mulberry 
vase, a pedestal given by me to Mr. Garrick, and which 
was recently sold, with Mr. Garrick's gems, at Mrs. 
Garrick's sale at Hampton. The Doctor read the in- 
scription : — 

" Sacred to Shakspeare, 

And in honour of 

David Garrick, Esq. 

The Ornament — the Reformer 

Of the British Stage." (2) 

" Ay, Sir ; Davy, Davy loves flattery ; but here, 
indeed, you have flattered him as he deserves, paying a 
just tribute to his merit." 

(1) The reader must bear in mind that this Doctor Edward 
Harwood, the same mentioned by Mr. Cradock, and who has 
been dead many years, is not to be confounded with Dr. Thomas 
Harwood, of Lichfield, who is now alive, and whose informa- 
tion is quoted at the beginning of this article. — C. 

(2) [This vase is now in the rich collection of Thomas Hill, 
Esq., of the Adelphi. See Frazer's Mag. v. x. p. 172., and New 
Monthly Mag., v. xliv. p. 154., art. " Life of Gilbert Gurney."] 

R 4 



248 JOHNSONIANA. 



Part X. 



ANECDOTES OF DR. JOHNSON, 
BY MR. GREEN, OF LICHFIELD, (i) 



379- Dr> Kippis. — Royal Society, 
Dr. Brocklesby, a few days before the death of Dr. 
Johnson, found on the table Dr. Kippis's account of 
the Disputes of the Royal Society. Dr. Johnson in- 
quired of his physician if he had read it, who answered 
in the negative. " You have sustained no loss, Sir. It 
is poor stuff, indeed, a sad unscholar-like performance. 
I could not have believed that that man would have 
written so 111." 

380. Dr. Warren. 

Being desired to call in Dr. Warren, he said, they 
might call in any body they pleased ; and Warren was 
called. At his going away, " You have come in," said 
Dr. Johnson, cc at the eleventh hour ; but you shall be 
paid the same with your fellow-labourers. Francis, 
put into Dr. Warren's coach a copy of the f English 
Poets/" 

381. Fear of Death. 

Some years before, some person in a company at 
Salisbury, of which Dr. Johnson was one, vouched for 
the company, that there was nobody in it afraid of 
death — (C Speak for yourself, Sir," said Johnson, " for 
indeed I am.'* " I did not say of dying" replied the 
)ther ; " but of death, meaning its consequences.'' " And 
so I mean," rejoined the Doctor ; ee I am very seriously 
afraid of the consequences." 

(1) See ante, Vol. VI. p. 98. 



PARKER. 249 



Part XI. 



ANECDOTES OF DR. JOHNSON, 
BY THE REV. MR. PARKER, (i) 



382. Stow-Hill. 
Dr. Johnson's friendship for Mrs. Elizabeth Aston 
commenced at the palace in Lichfield, the residence of 
Mr. Walmesley : with Mrs. Gastrel he became ac- 
quainted in London, at the house of her brother-in-law, 
Mr. Hervey. During the Doctor's annual visits to his 
daughter-in-law, Lucy Porter, he spent much of his 
time at Stow Hill, where Mrs. Gastrel and Mrs. Eliza- 
beth Aston resided. They were the daughters of Sir 
Thomas Aston, of Aston Hall in Cheshire, of whom 
it is said, that being applied to for some account of his 
family, to illustrate the history of Cheshire, he replied, 
that (i the title and estate had descended from father to 
son for thirty generations, and that he believed they 
were neither much richer nor much poorer than they 
were at first." 

383. Dr. Hunter. — Miss Seward. 
He used to say of Dr. Hunter ( 2 ), master of the free 
grammar school, Lichfield, that he never taught a boy 
in his life — he whipped and they learned. Hunter 
was a pompous man, and never entered the school with- 
out his gown and cassock, and his wig full dressed. 
He had a remarkably stern look, and Dr. Johnson said, 
he could tremble at the sight of Miss Seward, she was 
so like her grandfather. 

( 1 ) The following anecdotes are told by Mr. Parker, from 
the relation of Mrs. Aston and her sister. — C. 

(2) See ante, Vol. I. p. 40. 



250 JOHNSONIANA. 

384. Lives of the Poets. 
Mrs. Gastrel was on a visit at Mr. Hervey's, in 
London, at the time that Johnson was writing the 
Rambler; the printer's boy would often come after 
him to their house, and wait while he wrote off a paper 
for the press in a room full of company. A great por- 
tion of the Lives of the Poets was written at Stow- 
Hill : he had a table by one of the windows, which 
was frequently surrounded by five or six ladies engaged 
in work or conversation. Mrs. Gastrel had a very 
valuable edition of Bailey's Dictionary, to which he 
often referred. She told him that Miss Seward said 
that he had made poetry of no value by his criticism. 
" Why, my dear lady," replied he, €€ if silver is dirty, 
it is not the less valuable for a good scouring." 

385. Climbing. 
A large party had one day been invited to meet the 
Doctor at Stow-Hill: the dinner waited far beyond 
the usual hour, and the company were about to sit 
down, when Johnson appeared at the great gate; he 
stood for some time in deep contemplation, and at length 
began to climb it, and, having succeeded in clearing it, 
advanced with hasty strides towards the house. On his 
arrival Mrs. Gastrel asked him, " if he had forgotten 
that there was a small gate for foot passengers by the 
side of the carriage entrance." " No, my dear lady, 
by no means," replied the Doctor ; " but I had a mind 
to try whether I could climb a gate now as I used to 
do when I was a lad." 

386. Cato's Soliloquy. 
One day Mrs. Gastrel set a little girl to repeat to him 
Cato's soliloquy, which she went through very cor- 
rectly. The Doctor, after a pause, asked the child, 
" What was to bring Cato to an end ? " She said, it 
was a knife. " No, my dear, it was not so." " My 



PARKER. 251 

aunt Polly said it was a knife." " Why, aunt Polly's 
knife may do, but it was a dagger, my dear." He then 
asked her the meaning of " bane and antidote/' which 
she was unable to give. Mrs. Gastrel said, " You can- 
not expect so young a child to know the meaning of 
such words." He then said, " My dear, how many 
pence are there in sixpence?" ee I cannot tell, Sir," 
was the half-terrified reply. On this, addressing him- 
self to Mrs. Gastrel, he said, u Now, my dear lady, can 
any thing be more ridiculous than to teach a child 
Cato's soliloquy, who does not know how many pence 
there are in sixpence ? " 

387. Charity. 
The ladies at Stow- Hill would occasionally rebuke 
Dr. Johnson for the indiscriminate exercise of his 
charity to all who applied for it. " There was that 
woman," said one of them, " to whom you yesterday 
gave half-a-crown, why she was at church to-day in 
long sleeves and ribands." " Well, my dear," replied 
Johnson, u and if it gave the woman pleasure, why 
should she not wear them ?" 

388. Gilbert Walmesley. 
He had long promised to write Mr. Walmesley *s 
epitaph, and Mrs. W. waited for it, in order to erect a 
monument to her husband's memory : procrastination, 
however, one of the Doctor's few failings, prevented its 
being finished ; he was engaged upon it in his last ill- 
ness, and when the physicians, at his own request, in- 
formed him of his danger, he pushed the papers from 
before him, saying, " It was too late to write the 
epitaph of another, when he should so soon want one 
himself." 



252 JOHNSONIANA. 



Part XII. 



ANECDOTES OF DR. JOHNSON, 

BY MRS. ROSE.(i) 



389. The Dockers. 
Dr. Mudge used to relate, as a proof of Dr. Johnson's 
quick discernment into character : — When he was 
on a visit to Dr. Mudge at Plymouth, the inhabitants 
of the Dock (now Devonport) were very desirous of 
their town being supplied with water, to effect which it 
was necessary to obtain the consent of the corporation 
of Plymouth ; this was obstinately refused, the Dock 
being considered as an upstart. And a rival, Alder- 
man Tolcher, who took a very strong part, called one 
morning, and immediately opened on the subject to Dr. 
Johnson, who appeared to give great attention, and, 
when the alderman had ceased speaking, replied, " You 
are perfectly right, Sir ; I would let the rogues die of 
thirst, for I hate a Docker from my heart/' The old 
man went away quite delighted, and told all his ac- 
quaintances how completely u the great Dr. Johnson 
was on his side of the question/' ( 2 ) 

(1 ) Mrs. Rose, who has obligingly communicated these anec- 
dotes, is the daughter of Dr. Farr, of Plymouth, and the 
daughter-in-law of Dr. Johnson's old friend, Dr. Rose, of 
Chiswick. — C. 

(2) This story is told by Mr. Boswell, and commented upon 
by Mr. Blakeway {ante, Vol. II. p. 148.), as if Dr. Johnson 
had seriously entered into the spirit of the contest ; whereas Dr. 
Mudge, more naturally, represents him as flattering, with an 
ironical vehemence, the prejudices of the worthy alderman, 
who is known, from other circumstances, to have been of a very 
zealous disposition. — C. 



rose. 253 

390. Calumny. — Ridicule. 

It was after the publication of the Lives of the 
Poets that Dr. Farr, being engaged to dine with Sir 
Joshua Reynolds, mentioned, on coming in, that, in his 
way, he had seen a caricature, which he thought clever, 
of the nine muses flogging Dr. Johnson round Parnassus. 
The admirers of Gray and others, who thought their 
favourites hardly treated in the Lives, were laughing at 
Dr. Farr's account of the print, when Dr. Johnson was 
himself announced. Dr. Farr being the only stranger. 
Sir Joshua introduced him, and, to Dr. Farr's infinite 
embarrassment, repeated what he had just been telling 
them. Johnson was not at all surly on the occasion, 
but said, turning to Dr. Farr, " Sir, I am very glad to 
hear this. I hope the day will never arrive when I shall 
neither be the object of calumny or ridicule, for then I 
shall be neglected and forgotten." ( ! ) 

391. u Fiddle-de-dee." 

It was near the close of his life that two young ladies, 
who were warm admirers of his works, but had never 
seen himself, went to Bolt Court, and, asking if he was 
at home, were shown up stairs, where he was writing. 
He laid down his pen on their entrance, and, as they 
stood before him, one of the females repeated a speech 
of some length, previously prepared for the occasion. 
It was an enthusiastic effusion, which, when the speaker 
had finished, she panted for her idol's reply. What 
was her mortification when all he said was, " Fiddle-de- 
dee, my dear." 

(1) This was his usual declaration on all such occasions. If 
Johnson had been an amateur author, abuse and even criticism 
would no doubt have given him pain, but, to an author by pro- 
fession, and one who, for so many years, had lived by his pen, 
the greatest misfortune would be neglect ; for his daily bread 
depended on the sensation his works might create (see ante, 
Vol. VII. p. 246.). This observation will be found applicable 
to many other cases. — C. 



254- JOHNSONIANA. 

392. Hayley. 

Much pains were taken by Mr. Hayley 's friends to 
prevail on Br. Johnson to read c ' The Triumphs of 
Temper/' when it was in its zenith ; at last he con- 
sented, but never got beyond the two first pages, of 
which he uttered a few words of contempt that I have 
now forgotten. They were, however, carried to the 
author, who revenged himself by portraying Johnson 
as Rumble in his comedy of " The Mausoleum ;" and 
subsequently he published, without his name, a 
" Dialogue in the Shades between Lord Chesterfield 
and Dr. Johnson," more distinguished for malignity 
than wit. Being anonymous, and possessing very little 
merit, it fell still-born from the press. 

393. Mrs. Montagu. — Lord Lyttelton. 
Dr. Johnson sent his " Life of Lord Lyttelton " in 
MS. to Mrs. Montagu, who was much dissatisfied 
with it, and thought her friend every way underrated ; 
but the Doctor made no alteration. When he subse- 
quently made one of a party at Mrs. Montagu's, he ad- 
dressed his hostess two or three times after dinner, with 
a view to engage her in conversation : receiving only 
cold and brief answers, he said, in a low voice, to 
General Paoli, who sat next him, and who told me the 
story, et You see, Sir, I am no longer the man for 
Mrs. Montagu." 

394<. Favourite Couplet. 
Mrs. Piozzi related to me, that when Dr. Johnson 
one day observed, that poets in general preferred some 
one couplet they had written to any other, she replied, 
that she did not suppose he had a favourite ; he told her 
she was mistaken — he thought his best lines were : — 

" The encumber'd oar scarce leaves the hostile coast, 
Through purple billows and a floating host." 



SEWARD. 251 



Part XIII. 



ANECDOTES OF DR. JOHNSON, 
BY WILLIAM SEWARD, ESQ. (1) 



395. Sir Robert Walpole. 
Dr. Johnson said one day of Sir Robert Walpole, that 
he was the best minister this country ever had ; " for/ 
said he, ee he would have kept it in perpetual peace, if 
we," — meaning the Tories and those in opposition to 
him, — " would have let him. ,, 

396* Romantic Virtue. 
Dr. Johnson used to advise his friends to be upon their 
guard against romantic virtue, as being founded upon 
no settled principle ; " a plank," said he, K that is 
tilted up at one end, must of course fall down on the 
other/' 

397. Little Books. 
Another admonition of his was, never to go out with- 
out some little book or other in their pocket. cc Much 
time," added he, " is lost by waiting, by travelling, &c, 
and this may be prevented, by making use of every pos- 
sible opportunity for improvement." 

398. Languages. 
" The knowledge of various languages," said he, 
" may be kept up by occasionally using bibles and 
prayer-books in them at church." 

(1) [Author of " Anecdotes of Distinguished Persons," &c. 
See ante, Vol. III. p. 76. n. j 



256 JOHNSONIANA. 

399* Christian Religion, 
In a conversation with the Due de Chaulnes, the 
duke said to Johnson, ec that the morality of the dif- 
ferent religions existing in the world was nearly the 
same/' ei But you must acknowledge, my lord," said 
the Doctor, " that the Christion religion puts it upon 
its proper basis — the fear and love of God." 

400. Dr. Burney. 
Of the musical tracts of Dr. Burney this great critic 
in style thought so highly, that he told a friend of his, 
after he had published his Scotch Tour, ee Sir, I had 
Burney in my eye all the while I was writing my 
Journal." 

401. Mrs. Montagu. — Shakspeare. — Voltaire. 

Of Mrs. Montagu's elegant " Essay upon Shak- 
speare," he always said, ee that it was ad hominem , 
that it was conclusive against Voltaire ; and that she 
had done what she intended to do." ( ] ) 

402. Preface to Shakspeare. 
Johnson's Preface to his edition of Shakspeare was 
styled by Dr. Adam Smith, the most manly piece of 
criticism that was ever published in any country. 

403. Infant Hercules. 
Sir Joshua Reynolds, in his picture of the Infant 
Hercules, painted for the Empress of Russia, in the 
person of Tiresias the soothsayer, gave an adumbration 
of Johnson's manner. 

404. Due de Montmorencu 
In a conversation with Dr. Johnson on tne subject 
of this nobleman, he said, " Had I been Richelieu, I 
could not have found in my heart to have suffered the 

(1) fSee ante. Vol. III. p. 90., and Vol. IV. p. 266 ) 



HUMPHRY. 257 

first Christian baron to die by the hands of the exe- 
cutioner/' 

405. Music. 

Dr. Johnson was observed by a musical friend of his 
to be extremely inattentive at a concert, whilst a cele- 
brated solo player was running up the divisions and 
subdivisions of notes upon his violin. His friend, to 
induce him to take greater notice of what was going on, 
told him how extremely difficult it was. ce Difficult 
do you call it Sir ? " replied the Doctor ; " I wish it 
were impossible/' 

406. Voltaire. 

Dr. Johnson told Voltaire's antagonist FreVou, that 
vir erai acerrimi ingenii, ac paucarum literarum; and 
Warburton says of him, that " he wrote indifferently 
well upon every thing/' 



Part XIV. 

ANECDOTES OF DR. JOHNSON, 
BY OZIAS HUMPHRY, R.A. (') 



407« Johnson in 1 764. 
The day after I wrote my last letter to you I was in- 
troduced to Mr. Johnson by a friend: we passed through 
three very dirty rooms to a little one that looked like 

(1) [In a letter to his brother, the Rev. William Humphry, 
Rector of Kemsing and Seal, in Kent, and Vicar of Birling : 
from the original, in the possession of Mr. Upcott, dated Sep- 
tember 19. 1764. For Boswell's account of Mr. Humphry see 
ante, Vol. VIII. p. 264.] 

TOL. IX. S 



258 JOHNSONIANA 

an old counting-house, where this great man was sat at 
his breakfast. The furniture of this room was a very 
large deal writing-desk, an old walnut-tree table, and 
five ragged chairs of four different sets. I was very 
much struck with Mr. Johnson's appearance, and could 
hardly help thinking him a madman for some time, as 
he sat waving over his breakfast like a lunatic. 

He is a very large man, and was dressed in a dirty 
brown coat and waistcoat, with breeches that were 
brown also (though they had been crimson), and an old 
black wig : his shirt collar and sleeves were unbuttoned ; 
his stockings were down about his feet, which had on 
them, by way of slippers, an old pair of shoes. He 
had not been up long when we called on him, which 
was near one o'clock : he seldom goes to bed till near 
two in the morning ; and Mr. Reynolds tells me he 
generally drinks tea about an hour after he has supped. 
We had been some time with him before he began to 
talk, but at length he began, and, faith, to some purpose ! 
every thing he says is as correct as a second edition : 
'tis almost impossible to argue with him, he is so sen- 
tentious aud so knowing. 

408. Sir Joshua Reynolds. 
I asked him, if he had seen Mr. Reynolds's pictures 
lately. (e No, Sir." " He has painted many fine ones." 
" I know he has," he said, " as I hear he has been 
fully employed." I told him, I imagined Mr. Rey- 
nolds was not much pleased to be overlooked by the 
court, as he must be conscious of his superior merit. 
(i Not at all displeased," he said, " Mr. Reynolds has too 
much good sense to be affected by it: when he was 
younger he believed it would have been agreeable ; but 
now he does not want their favour. It has ever been 
more profitable to be popular among the people than 
favoured by the King : it is no reflection on Mr. Rey- 
nolds not to be employed by them ; but it will be a 



SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 259 

reflection for ever on the court not to have employed 
him. The King, perhaps, knows nothing but that he 
employs the best painter; and as for the queen, I don't 
imagine she has any other idea of a picture, but that 
it is a thing composed of many colours." 

409. Bath. 
When Mr. Johnson understood that I had lived some 
time in Bath, he asked me many questions that led, 
indeed, to a general description of it. He seemed very 
well pleased ; but remarked, that men and women 
bathing together, as they do at Bath, is an instance of 
barbarity, that he believed could not be paralleled in 
any part of the world. He entertained us about an 
hour and a half in this manner; then we took our 
leave. I must not omit to add, that I am informed 
he denies himself many conveniences, though he cannot 
well afford any, that he may have more in his power to 
give in charities. 



Part XV. 

ANECDOTES OF DR. JOHNSON, 
BY SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. (1) 



410. Johnsons Conversation, — Sir Joshua Reynolds's 

fi Discourses." — Art of Thinking. 
I remember Mr. Burke, speaking of the Essays of 
Sir Francis Bacon, said, he thought them the best of 
his works. Dr. Johnson was of opinion, that r * their 
excellence and their value consisted in being the ob- 

(1) [From an unfinished Discourse, found by Mr. Malone 
among Sir Joshua's loose papers. See Works, vol. i. p. 9. j 

s 2 



260 JOHNSONIANA. 

servations of a strong mind operating upon life ; and 
in consequence you find there what you seldom find in 
other books." It is this kind of excellence which gives 
a value to the performances of artists also. It is the 
thoughts expressed in the works of Michael Angelo, 
Coreggio, RafFaelle, Parmegiano, and perhaps some of 
the old Gothic masters, and not the inventions of Pietro 
da Cortona, Carlo Marati, Luca Giordano, and others, 
that I might mention, which we seek after with avidity : 
from the former we learn to think originally. 

May I presume to introduce myself on this occasion, 
and even to mention, as an instance of the truth of what 
I have remarked, the very Discourses which I have had 
the honour of delivering from this place ? Whatever 
merit they have, must be imputed, in a great measure, 
to the education which I may be said to have had under 
Dr. Johnson. I do not mean to say, though it certainly 
would be to the credit of these Discourses, if I could 
say it with truth, that he contributed even a single 
sentiment to them;- but he qualified my mind to think 
justly. No man had, like him, the faculty of teaching 
inferior minds the art of thinking. Perhaps other men 
might have equal knowledge ; but few were so com- 
municative. His great pleasure was to talk to those 
who looked up to him. It was here he exhibited his 
wonderful powers. In mixed company, and frequently 
in company that ought to have looked up to him, many, 
thinking they had a character for learning to support, 
considered it as beneath them to enlist in the train of 
his auditors ; and to such persons he certainly did not 
appear to advantage, being often impetuous and over- 
bearing. 

The desire of shining in conversation was in him, in- 
deed, a predominant passion ; and if it must be attributed 
to vanity, let it at the same time be recollected, that it 
produced that loquaciousness from which his more in- 
timate friends derived considerable advantage. The 



SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 261 

observations which he made on poetry, on life, and on 
every thing about us, I applied to our art ; with what 
success, others must judge. Perhaps an artist in his 
studies should pursue the same conduct ; and, instead of 
patching up a particular work on the narrow plan of 
imitation, rather endeavour to acquire the art and power 
of thinking. 

411. Johnsons Style of Conversation. 

[Thefollouing jeu $ esprit was written by Sir Joshua Reynolds to 
illustrate a remark which he had made, that " Dr. Johnson con- 
sidered Garrick as Ids property, and would never suffer any one 
to praise or abuse him but himself.''' In tlie first of these sup- 
posed dialogues. Sir Joshua himself by high encomiums upon 
Garrick, is represented as drawing down upon him Johnson's 
censure; in the second, Mr. Gibbon, by taking the opposite side, 
calls forth his praise.'] 

TWO DIALOGUES IN IMITATION OF JOHNSON'S 
STYLE OF CONVERSATION. (*) 

Johnson against Garrick, 

Dr. Johnson and Sir Joshua Reynolds. 

Reynolds. Let me alone, I'll bring him out. {Aside. 

I have been thinking, Dr. Johnson, this morning, on a 

(2) These dialogues were printed in 1816 from the MS. of 
Sir Joshua, by his niece, Lady Thomond: they were not pub- 
lished, but distributed by her "ladyship to some friends of Dr. 
Johnson and Sir Joshua. The copy which I have was spon- 
taneously transmitted to me by Mrs. Gwynn, the friend of 
Goldsmith and of Johnson, whose early beauty is celebrated in 
the first part of this work (Vol. II. p'. 191. ), and who is still 
distinguished for her amiable character and high mental accom- 
plishments. Lady Thomond, in the prefatory note, calls this a 
u jeu cP esprit " but I was informed by the late Sir George 
Beaumont, who knew all the parties, and to whom Reynolds 
himself gave a copy of it, that if the words jeu desprii were to 
be understood to imply that it was altogether an invention of 
Sir Joshua's, the term would be erroneous. The substance, 
s 3 



262 JOHNSON1ANA. 

matter that has puzzled me very much ; it is a subject 
that I dare say has often passed in your thoughts, and 
though / cannot, I dare say you have made up your 
mind upon it. 

Johnson. Tilly fally ! what is all this preparation, 
what is all this mighty matter ? 

Rey. Why, it is a very weighty matter. The sub- 
ject I have been thinking upon is, predestination and 
freewill, two things I cannot reconcile together for the 
life of me ; in my opinion, Dr. Johnson, freewill and 
foreknowledge cannot be reconciled. 

Johns. Sir, it is not of very great importance what 
your opinion is upon such a question. 

Rey. But I meant only, Dr. Johnson, to know your 
opinion. 

Johns. No, Sir, you meant no such thing ; you 
meant only to show these gentlemen that you are not 
the man they took you to be, but that you think of 
high matters sometimes, and that you may have the 
credit of having it said that you held an argument with 
Sam Johnson on predestination and freewill ; a subject 
of that magnitude as to have engaged the attention of 
the world, to have perplexed the wisdom of man for 
these two thousand years ; a subject on which the 
fallen angels, who had yet not lost their original bright- 
ness, find themselves in wandering mazes lost. That 
such a subject could be discussed in the levity of convi- 
vial conversation, is a degree of absurdity beyond what 
rs easily conceivable. 

Rey. It is so, as you say, to be sure ; I talked once 
to our friend Garrick upon this subject, but I remember 
we could make nothing of it. 



and many of the expressions, of the dialogues did really occur ; 
Sir Joshua did little more than collect, as if into two con- 
versations, what had been uttered at many, and heighten the 
effect bv the juxtaposition of such discordant opinions. — C. 



SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 263 

Johns. O noble pair ! 

Rey. Garrick was a clever fellow, Dr. J. ; Garrick, 
take him altogether, was certainly a very great man. 

Johns. Garrick, Sir, may be a great man in your 
opinion, as far as I know, but he was not so in mine ; 
little things are great to little men. 

Rey. I have heard you say, Dr. Johnson 

Johns. Sir, you never heard me say that David Gar- 
rick was a great man ; you may have heard me say 
that Garrick was a good repeater — of other men's 
words — words put into his mouth by other men ; this 
makes but a faint approach towards being a great man. 

Rey. But take Garrick upon the whole, now, in 
regard to conversation 

Johns. Well, Sir, in regard to conversation, I never 
discovered in the conversation of David Garrick any 
intellectual energy, any wide grasp of thought, any ex- 
tensive comprehension of mind, or that he possessed 
any of those powers to which great could, with any 
degree of propriety, be applied. 

Rey. But still 

Johns. Hold, Sir, I have not done — there are, to be 
sure, in the laxity of colloquial speech, various kinds of 
greatness ; a man may be a great tobacconist, a man 
may be a great painter, he may be likewise a great 
mimic : now you may be the one, and Garrick the 
other, and yet neither of you be great men. 

Rey. But, Dr. Johnson 

Johns. Hold, Sir, I have often lamented how dan- 
gerous it is to investigate and to discriminate character, 
to men who have no discriminative powers. 

Rey. But Garrick, as a companion, I heard you 
say — no longer ago than last Wednesday, at Mr. 
Thrale's table 

Johns. You tease me, Sir. Whatever you may have 
heard me say, no longer ago than last Wednesday, at 
Mr. Thrale's table, I tell you I do not say so now : 
s 4 



264 JOHNSONIANA. 

oesides, as I said before, you may not have understood 
me, you misapprehended me, you may not have heard 
me. 

Rey. I am very sure I heard you. 

Johns. Besides, besides, Sir, basides, — do you not 
know, — are you so ignorant as not to know, that it is 
the highest degree of rudeness to quote a man against 
himself ? 

Rey. But if you differ from yourself, and give one 
pinion to-day — 

Johns. Have done, Sir ; the company, you see, are 
tired, as well as myself/' 

t'other side. 

Dr. Johnson and Mr, Gibbon, 

Johnson. No, Sir ; Garrick's fame was prodigious, 
not only in England, but over all Europe. Even in 
Russia I have been told he was a proverb ; when any 
one had repeated well, he was called a second Garrick. 

Gibbon. I think he had full as much reputation as 
he deserved. 

John. I do not pretend to know, Sir, what your 
meaning may be, by saying he had as much reputation 
as he deserved ; he deserved much, and he had much. 

Gib. Why, surely, Dr. Johnson, his merit was in 
small things only, he had none of those qualities that 
make a real great man. 

Johns. Sir, I as little understand what your meaning 
may be when you speak of the qualities that make a 
great man ; it is a vague term. Garrick was no common 
man ; a man above the common size of men may 
surely, without any great impropriety, be called a great 
man. In my opinion he has very reasonably fulfilled 
the prophecy which he once reminded me of having 
made to his mother, when she asked me how little 
David went on at school, that I should say to her, that 



SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 265 

he would come to be hanged, or come to be a great 
man. No, Sir, it is undoubtedly true that the same 
qualities, united with virtue or with vice, make a hero 
or a rogue, a great general or a highwayman. Now 
Garrick, we are sure, was never hanged, and in regard 
to his being a great man, you must take the whole man 
together. It must be considered in how many things 
Garrick excelled in which every man desires to excel : 
setting aside his excellence as an actor, in which he is ac- 
knowledged to be unrivalled ; as a man, as a poet, as a 
convivial companion, you will find but few his equals, 
and none his superior. As a man, he was kind, friendly, 
benevolent, and generous. 

Gib. Of Garrick's generosity I never heard ; I un- 
derstood his character to be totally the reverse, and that 
he was reckoned to have loved money. 

Johns. That he loved money, nobody will dispute ; 
who does not? but if you mean, by loving money, 
that he was parsimonious to a fault, Sir, you have been 
misinformed. To Foote, and such scoundrels, who 
circulated those reports, to such profligate spendthrifts 
prudence is meanness, and economy is avarice. That 
Garrick, in early youth, was brought up in strict habits 
of economy, I believe, and that they were necessary, 
I have heard from himself; to suppose that Garrick 
might inadvertently act from this habit, and be saving 
in small things, can be no wonder : but let it be re- 
membered at the same time, that if he was frugal by 
habit, he was liberal from principle ; that when he 
acted from reflection, he did what his fortune enabled 
him to do, and what was expected from such a fortune. 
I remember no instance of David's parsimony but once, 
when he stopped Mrs. Woffington from replenishing 
the tea-pot ; it was already, he said, as red as blood ; 
and this instance is doubtful, and happened many years 
ago. In the latter part of his life I observed no blame- 
able parsimony in David; his table was elegant and 



2f]6 JOHNSONIANA. 

even splendid; his house both in town and country, 
his equipage, and I think all his habits of life, were such 
as might be expected from a man who had acquired 
great riches. In regard to his generosity, which you 
seem to question, I shall only say, there is no man to 
whom I would apply with more confidence of success, 
for the loan of two hundred pounds to assist a common 
friend, than to David, and this too with very little, if 
any, probability of its being repaid. 

Gib. You were going to say something of him as a 
writer — - you don't rate him very high as a poet. 

Johns. Sir, a man may be a respectable poet without 
being a Homer, as a man may be a good player without 
being a Garrick. In the lighter kinds of poetry, in the 
appendages of the drama, he was, if not the first, in the 
very first class. He had a readiness and facility, a 
dexterity of mind that appeared extraordinary even to 
men of experience, and who are not apt to wonder from 
ignorance. Writing prologues, epilogues, and epigrams, 
he said he considered as his trade, and he was, what a 
man should be, always, and at all times, ready at his 
trade. He required two hours for a prologue or epi- 
logue, and five minutes for an epigram. Once at 
Burke's table the company proposed a subject, and Gar- 
rick finished his epigram within the time ; the same 
experiment was repeated in the garden, and with the 
same success. 

Gib. Garrick had some flippancy of parts, to be sure, 
and was brisk and lively in company, and by the help 
of mimicry and story-telling, made himself a pleasant 
companion ; but here the whole world gave the su- 
periority to Foote, and Garrick himself appears to have 
felt as if his genius was rebuked by the superior powers 
of Foote. It has been often observed, that Garrick 
never dared to enter into competition with him, but 
was content to act an under part to bring Foote out. 

Johns. That this conduct of Garrick's might be in- 



SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 267 

^erpreted by the gross minds of Foote and his friends, 
as if he was afraid to encounter him, I can easily ima- 
gine. Of the natural superiority of Garrick over Foote, 
this conduct is an instance : he disdained entering into 
competition with such a fellow, and made him the buf- 
foon of the company; or, as you say, brought him out. 
And what was at last brought out but coarse jests and 
vulgar merriment, indecency and impiety, a relation of 
events which, upon the face of them, could never have 
happened, characters grossly conceived and as coarsely 
represented ? Foote was even no mimic ; he went out 
of himself, it is true, but without going into another 
man ; he was excelled by Garrick even in this, which 
is considered as Foote's greatest excellence. Garrick, 
besides his exact imitation of the voice and gesture of 
his original, to a degree of refinement of which Foote 
had no conception, exhibited the mind and mode of 
thinking of the person imitated. Besides, Garrick con- 
fined his powers within the limits of decency ; he had 
a character to preserve, Foote had none. By Foote's 
buffoonery and broad -faced merriment, private friend- 
ship, public decency, and every thing estimable amongst 
men, were trod under foot. We all know the differ- 
ence of their reception in the world. No man, however 
high in rank or literature, but was proud to know 
Garrick, and was glad to have him at his table ; no 
man ever considered or treated Garrick as a player ; he 
may be said to have stepped out of his own rank into a 
higher, and by raising himself, he raised the rank of 
his profession. At a convivial table his exhilarating 
powers were unrivalled ; he was lively, entertaining, 
quick in discerning the ridicule of life, and as ready in 
representing it ; and on graver subjects there were few 
topics in which he could not bear his part. It is in- 
jurious to the character of Garrick to be named in the 
same breath with Foote. That Foote was admitted 
sometimes into good company (to do the man what 



268 JOHNSONIANA. 

credit I can) I will allow, but then it was merely to 
play tricks : Foote's merriment was that of a buffoon, 
and Garrick' s that of a gentleman. 

Gib. I have been told, on the contrary, that Garrick 
in company had not the easy manners of a gentleman. 

Johns. Sir, I don't know what you may have been 
told, or what your ideas may be, of the manners of a 
gentleman : Garrick had no vulgarity in his manners ; 
it is true Garrick had not the airiness of a fop, nor did 
he assume an affected indifference to what was passing ; 
he did not lounge from the table to the window, and 
from thence to the fire, or, whilst you were addressing 
your discourse to him, turn from you and talk to his 
next neighbour, or give any indication that he was tired 
of your company : if such manners form your ideas of 
a fine gentleman, Garrick certainly had them not. 

Gib. I mean that Garrick was more overawed by the 
presence of the great, and more obsequious to rank, than 
Foote, who considered himself as their equal, and 
treated them with the same familiarity as they treated 
each other. 

Johns. He did so, and what did the fellow get by 
it? The grossness of his mind prevented him from 
seeing that this familiarity was merely suffered as they 
would play with a dog ; he got no ground by affecting 
to call peers by their surnames; the foolish fellow 
fancied that lowering them was raising himself to their 
level ; this affectation of familiarity with the great, this 
childish ambition of momentary exaltation obtained by 
the neglect of those ceremonies which custom has esta- 
blished as the barriers between one order of society 
and another, only showed his folly and meanness ; he 
did not see that by encroaching on others' dignity, he 
puts himself in their power either to be repelled with 
helpless indignity, or endured by clemency and con- 
descension. Garrick, by paying due respect to rank, 
respected himself; what he gave was returned, and 



SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 269 

what was returned he kept for ever ; his advancement 
was on firm ground, he was recognised in public as 
well as respected in private, and as no man was ever 
more courted and better received by the public, so no 
man was ever less spoiled by its flattery : Garrick con- 
tinued advancing to the last, till he had acquired every 
advantage that high birth or title could bestow, except 
the precedence of going into a room ; but when he was 
there, he was treated with as much attention as the first 
man at the table. It is to the credit of Garrick, that 
he never laid any claim to this distinction ; it was 
as voluntarily allowed as if it had been his birthright. 
In this, I confess, I looked on David with some degree 
of envy, not so much for the respect he received, as for 
the manner of its being acquired ; what fell into his 
lap unsought, I have been forced to claim. I began 
the world by fighting my way. There was something 
about me that invited insult, or at least a disposition to 
neglect, and I was equally disposed to repel insult and 
to claim attention, and I fear continue too much in this 
disposition now it is no longer necessary ; I receive at 
present as much favour as I have a right to expect. I 
am not one of the complainers of the neglect of merit. 

Gib. Your pretensions, Dr. Johnson, nobody will 
dispute ; I cannot place Garrick on the same footing : 
your reputation will continue increasing after your 
death, when Garrick will be totally forgotten ; you will 
be for ever considered as a classic 

Johns. Enough, Sir, enough ; the company would 
be better pleased to see us quarrel than bandying com- 
pliments. 

Gib. But you must allow, Dr. Johnson, that Garrick 
was too much a slave to fame, or rather to the mean 
ambition of living with the great, terribly afraid of 
making himself cheap even with them ; by which he 
debarred himself of much pleasant society. Employing 
so much attention, and so much management upon such 



270 JOHNSONIANA. 

little things, implies, I think, a little mind. It was ob- 
served by his friend Colman, that he never went into 
company but with a plot how to get out of it ; he was 
every minute called out, and went off or returned as 
there was or was not a probability of his shining. 

Johns. In regard to his mean ambition, as you call 
it, of living with the great, what was the boast of Pope, 
and is every man's wish, can be no reproach to Garrick ; 
he who says he despises it knows he lies. That Garrick 
husbanded his fame, the fame which he had justly 
acquired both at the theatre and at the table, is not 
denied ; but where is the blame, either in the one or the 
other, of leaving as little as he could to chance ? Be- 
sides, Sir, consider what you have said ; you first deny 
Garrick' s pretensions to fame, and then accuse him of 
too great an attention to preserve what he never pos- 
sessed. 

Gib. I don't understand 

Johns. Sir, I can't help that. 

Gib. Well, but Dr. Johnson, you will not vindicate 
him in his over and above attention to his fame, his 
inordinate desire to exhibit himself to new men, like a 
coquette, ever seeking after new conquests, to the total 
neglect of old friends and admirers ; — 

" He threw off his friends like a huntsman his pack," 

always looking out for new game. 

Johns. When you quoted the line from Goldsmith, 
you ought, in fairness, to have given what followed ; 
" He knew when he pleased he could whistle them back ; 

which implies at least that he possessed a power ov 
other men's minds approaching to fascination ; but con- 
sider, Sir, what is to be done : here is a man whom 
every other man desired to know. Garrick could not 
receive and cultivate all, according to each man's con- 
ception of his own value : we are all apt enough to 
consider ourselves as possessing a right to be excepted 



Sill JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 271 

from the common crowd ; besides, Sir, I do not see 
why that should be imputed to him as a crime, which 
we all so irresistibly feel and practise ; we all make 
a greater exertion of the presence of new men than old 
acquaintance ; it is undoubtedly true that Garrick 
divided his attention among so many, that but little was 
left to the share of any individual ; like the extension 
and dissipation of water into dew, there was not quantity 
united sufficiently to quench any man's thirst ; but this 
is the inevitable state of things : Garrick, no more than 
another man, could unite what, in their natures, are 
incompatible. 

Gib. But Garrick not only was excluded by this 
means from real friendship, but accused of treating 
those whom he called friends with insincerity and 
double dealings. 

Johns. Sir, it is not true ; his character in that 
respect is misunderstood : Garrick was, to be sure, very 
ready in promising, but he intended at that time to 
fulfil his promise ; he intended no deceit : his polite- 
ness or his good-nature, call it which you will, made 
him unwilling to deny ; he wanted the courage to say 
No, even to unreasonable demands. This was the great 
error of his life : by raising expectations which he did 
not, perhaps could not, gratify, he made many enemies ; 
at the same time it must be remembered, that this error 
proceeded from the same cause which produced many 
of his virtues. Friendships from warmth of temper 
too suddenly taken up, and too violent to continue, 
ended as they were like to do, in disappointment; 
enmity succeeded disappointment ; his friends became 
his enemies ; and those having been fostered in his 
bosom, well knew his sensibility to reproach, and they 
took care that he should be amply supplied with such 
bitter potions as they were capable of administering ; 
their impotent efforts he ought to have despised, but he 
felt them ; nor did he affect insensibility. 



272 JOHNSONIANA. 

Gib. And that sensibility probably shortened his 
life. 

Johns. No, Sir, he died of a disorder of which you 
or any other man may die, without being killed by too 
much sensibility. 

Gib. But you will allow, however, that this sensi- 
bility, those fine feelings, made him the great actor he 
was. 

Johns. This is all cant, fit only for kitchen wenches 
and chambermaids : Garrick's trade was to represent 
passion, not to feel it. Ask Reynolds whether he felt 
the distress of Count Hugolino when he drew it. 

Gib. But surely he feels the passion at the moment 
he is representing it. 

Johns. About as much as Punch feels. That Gar- 
rick himself gave into this foppery of feelings I can 
easily believe ; but he knew at the same time that 
he lied. He might think it right, as far as I know, to 
have what fools imagined he ought to have ; but it 
is amazing that any one should be so ignorant as to 
think that an actor will risk his reputation by depending 
on the feelings that shall be excited in the presence of 
two hundred people, on the repetition of certain words 
which he has repeated two hundred times before in 
what actors call their study. No, Sir, Garrick left 
nothing to chance ; every gesture, every expression of 
countenance, and variation of voice, was settled in his 
closet before he set his foot upon the stage." (*) 

(l) This is conformable with the opinion of Grimm and 
Diderot, and with the admission of Mr. Kemble ; but it must 
not be understood too literally. A great actor prepares in his 
study, positions, attitudes, the particular mode of uttering certain 
passages, and even the tone which is to be adopted ; and having 
once ascertained, both by thought and experience, what is best, 
he will naturally adhere to that, however often he may play the 
part ; but it is equally certain, that there is a large portion of 
the merit of a great theatrical exhibition which is not reducible 
to any rule, and which depends, not only on the general powers 
of the petformer, but on his health, his spirits, and other per- 



d'arblay. 273 



Part XVI. 



ANECDOTES OF DR. JOHNSON, 

BY MADAME D'ARBLAY. (i) 



412. Mr. Bewley. — Johnson s Hearth-broom. 

In 1760, Mr. Burney found an opportunity of pay- 
ing his personal respects to Dr. Johnson ; who then 
resided in chambers in the Temple. While awaiting 
the appearance of his revered host, Mr. Burney re- 
collected a supplication from Mr. Bewley, the philoso- 
pher of Massingham, to be indulged with some token, 
however trifling or common, of his friend's admission 
to the habitation of this great man. Vainly, however, 
Mr. Burney looked around the apartment for something 
that he might innoxiously purloin. Nothing but coarse 
and necessary furniture was in view ; nothing portable 
— not even a wafer, the cover of a letter, or a split pen, 
was to be caught ; till, at length, he had the happiness 
to espy an old hearth-broom in the chimney corner. 
From this, with hasty glee, he cut off a bristly wisp, 
which he hurried into his pocket-book ; and afterwards 



sonal circumstances of the moment which may tend to encourage 
or restrain his powers. And it may be safely affirmed, that al- 
though no actor ever fancies himself Othello, or any actress 
Calista, yet that the unpremeditated emotions last alluded to 
constitute a great part of the charm which distinguishes on the 
stage excellence from mediocrity. — C. 

(1) [Formerly, the celebrated Miss Fanny Burney, author 
of " Evelina," &c. ; from whose Memoirs of her father, Dr. 
Burney, these anecdotes are taken.] 
VOL. IX. T 



274 JOHNSONIANA. 

formally folded in silver paper, and forwarded, in a 
frank to Lord Orford, for Mr. Bewley ; by whom the 
burlesque offering was hailed with good-humoured ac- 
clamation, and preserved through life. ( J ) 

413. Music. 

Dr. Johnson, who had no ear for music, had ac- 
customed himself, like many other great writers who 
have had that same, and frequently sole, deficiency, to 
speak slightingly both of the art and of its professors : 
and it was not till after he had become intimately ac- 
quainted with Dr. Burney and his various merits, that 
he ceased to join in a jargon so unworthy of his liberal 
judgment, as that of excluding musicians and their art 
from celebrity. The first symptom that he showed of 
a tendency to conversion upon this subject, was upon 
hearing the following paragraph read, accidentally, 
aloud by Mrs. Thrale, from the preface to the History 
of Music, while it was yet in manuscript : — t€ The 
love of lengthened tones and modulated sounds, seems a 
passion implanted in human nature throughout the 
globe ; as we hear of no people, however wild and 
savage in other particulars, who have not music of some 
kind or other, with which they seem greatly delighted." 
— <e Sir," cried Dr. Johnson, after a little pause, " this 
assertion I believe may be right." And then, see- 
sawing a minute or two on his chair, he forcibly added, 
u All animated nature loves music — except myself! " 

Some time later, when Dr. Burney perceived that he 
was generally gaining ground in the house, he said to 
Mrs. Thrale, who had civilly been listening to some 
favourite air that he had been playing, iC I have yet 
hopes, Madam, with the assistance of my pupil, to see 
yours become a musical family. Nay, I even hope, 
Sir," turning to Dr. Johnson, " I shall some time or 

(t) See ante, Vol. VIII. p. 116. 



d'arblay. 275 

other make you, also, sensible of the power of my art. 1 ' 
ft Sir/' answered the Doctor, smiling, " I shall be very 
glad to have a new sense put into me ! " 

414. Dr. Burney. 

The Tour to the Hebrides being then in hand, Dr. 
Burney inquired of what size and form the book would 
be. <c Sir," he replied, with a little bow, ce you are 
my model ! " Impelled by the same kindness, when 
my father lamented the disappointment of the public 
in Hawkesworth's Voyages, — " Sir," he cried, " the 
public is always disappointed in books of travels; — 
except yours." And afterwards, he said, that he had 
hardly ever read any book quite through in his life ; but 
added, (C Chamier and I, Sir, however, read all your 
travels through ; except, perhaps, the description of the 
great pipes in the organs of Germany and the Nether- 
lands." 

415. Streatham Library. 

Mr. Thrale had lately fitted up a rational, readable 
well-chosen library. It were superfluous to say that 
he had neither authors for show, nor bindings for 
vanity, when it is known, that while it was forming, he 
placed merely one hundred pounds in Dr. Johnson's 
hands for its completion ; though such was his liber- 
ality, and such his opinion of the wisdom as well as 
knowledge of the Doctor in literary matters, that he 
would not for a moment have hesitated to subscribe to 
the highest estimate that the Doctor might have pre- 
posed. One hundred pounds, according to the expensive 
habits of the present day, of decorating books like 
courtiers and coxcombs, rather than like students and 
philosophers, would scarcely purchase a single row for 
a book -case of the length of Mr. Thrale's at Streatham ; 
though, under such guidance as that of Dr. Johnson^ 



276 JOHNSONIANA. 

to whom all finery seemed foppery, and all foppery 
futility, that sum, added to the books naturally in- 
herited, or already collected, amply sufficed for the 
unsophisticated reader, where no peculiar pursuit, or 
unlimited spirit of research, demanded a collection for 
reference rather than for instruction and enjoyment. 

4 16. Streatham Gallery, 

This was no sooner accomplished, than Mr. Thrale 
resolved to surmount these treasures for the mind by a 
similar regale for the eyes, in selecting the persons he 
most loved to contemplate, from amongst his friends 
and favourites, to preside over the literature that stood 
highest in his estimation. And, that his portrait painter 
might go hand in hand in judgment with his collector 
of books, he fixed upon the matchless Sir Joshua Rey- 
nolds to add living excellence to dead perfection, by 
giving him the personal resemblance of the following 
elected set ; every one of which occasionally made a part 
of the brilliant society of Streatham. Mrs. Thrale and 
her eldest daughter were in one piece, over the fire- 
place, at full length. The rest of the pictures were ail 
three-quarters. Mr. Thrale was over the door leading 
to his study. The general collection then began by 
Lord Sandys and Lord Westcote, two early noble friends 
of Mr. Thrale. Then followed Dr. Johnson, Mr. 
Murphy, Mr. Burke, Mr. Garrick, Dr. Goldsmith, Mr. 
Baretti, Sir Robert Chambers, and Sir Joshua Reynolds 
himself. All painted in the highest style of the great 
master ; who much delighted in this his Streatham gal- 
lery. There was place left but for one more frame, 
when the acquaintance with Dr. Burney began at 
Streatham ; and the charm of his conversation and 
manners, joined to his celebrity in letters, so quickly 
won upon the master as well as the mistress of the 
mansion, that he was presently selected for the honour 
of filling up this last chasm in the chain of Streath m 



d'arblay. 277 

worthies. To this flattering distinction, which Dr. 
Burney always recognised with pleasure, the public owe 
the engraving of Bartolozzi, which is prefixed to the 
History of Music. ( ] ) 

417. Johnson* s Kindness of Heart. 
The friendship and kindness of heart of Dr. Johnson 
were promptly brought into play by this renewed inter- 
course. Richard, the youngest son of Dr. Burney, born 
of the second marriage, was then preparing for Win- 
chester School, whither his father purposed conveying 
him in person. This design was no sooner known at 
Streatham, where Richard, at that time a beautiful as 
well as clever boy, was in great favour with Mrs. 
Thrale, than Dr. Johnson volunteered an offer to ac- 
company the father to Winchester; that he might 
himself present the son to Dr. Warton, the then cele- 
brated master of that ancient receptacle for the study of 
youth. Dr. Burney, enchanted by such a mark of re- 
gard, gratefully accepted the proposal ; and they set out 
together for Winchester, where Dr. Warton expected 
them with ardent hospitality. 

418. Dr. Warton. 
Dr. Warton's reception of Dr. Johnson was rather 
rapturous than glad. Dr. Warton was always called an 
enthusiast by Dr. Johnson, who, at times, when in gay 
spirits, and with those with whom he trusted their 
ebullition, would take off Dr. Warton with the strongest 
humour; describing, almost convulsively, the ecstasy 
with which he would seize upon the person nearest to 
him, to hug in his arms, lest his grasp should be eluded, 
while he displayed some picture, or some prospect ; and 
indicated, in the midst of contortions and gestures that 
violently and ludicrously shook, if they did not affright 

(1) [See ante, p. 187.] 
T 3* 



278 JOHNSONIANA. 

his captive, the particular point of view, or of design, 
that he wished should be noticed. 

419* Johnsons Humility. 
From Dr. Johnson's internal humility, it is possible 
that he was not himself aware of the great chasm that 
separated him from the herd of mankind, when not 
held to it by the ties of benevolence or of necessity. 
To talk of humility and Dr. Johnson together, may, 
perhaps, make the few who remember him smile, and 
the many who have only heard of him stare. But his 
humility was not that of thinking more lowlily of him- 
self than of others ; it was simply that of thinking so 
lowlily of others, as to hold his own conscious superiority 
of but small scale in the balance of intrinsic excellence. 

420. Visit to Dr. Burney. 

I shall now give in detail a narrative of the first ap- 
pearance of Dr. Johnson at my father's residence in St. 
Martin's Lane, the house of Sir Isaac Newton. Mrs. 
and Miss Thrale, Miss Owen, and Mr. Seward, came 
long before Lexiphanes. Mrs. Thrale is a pretty woman 
still, though she has some defect in the mouth that looks 
like a cut, or scar ; but her nose is very handsome, her 
complexion very fair ; she has the embonpoint charmant, 
and her eyes are blue and lustrous. She is extremely 
lively and chatty ; and showed none of the supercilious 
or pedantic airs, so freely, or, rather, so scoffingly at- 
tributed to women of learning or celebrity ; on the 
contrary, she is full of sport, remarkably gay, and ex- 
cessively agreeable. I liked her in every thing except 
her entrance into the room, which was rather florid and 
flourishing, as who should say, rs It's I ! — no less a 
person than Mrs. Thrale ! " 

The conversation was supported with a great deal of 
vivacity, as usual when il Signor Padrone is at home. 
This confab, was broken up by a duet between your 



d'arblay. 279 

Hettma and, for the first time to company-listeners, 
Suzette. In the midst of this performance, Dr. John, 
son was announced. Every body rose to do him hon- 
our ; and he returned the attention with the most 
formal courtesy. My father then, having welcomed 
him with the warmest respect, whispered to him that 
music was going forward; which he would not, my 
father thinks, have found out ; and placing him on the 
best seat vacant, told his daughters to go on with the 
duet ; while Dr. Johnson, intently rolling towards them 
one eye, — for they say he does not see with the other, — 
made a grave nod, and gave a dignified motion with 
one hand, in silent approvance of the proceeding. 

But now I am mortified to own, that he is, indeed, 
very ill-favoured. Yet he has naturally a noble figure ; 
tall, stout, grand, and authoritative : but he stoops hor- 
ribly ; his back is quite round : his mouth is continually 
opening and shutting, as if he were chewing something ; 
he has a singular method of twirling his fingers, and 
twisting his hands : his vast body is in constant agita- 
tion, see-sawing backwards and forwards : his feet are 
never a moment quiet; and his whole great person 
looked often as if it were going to roll itself, quite 
voluntarily, from his chair to the floor. 

His dress, considering the times, and that he had 
meant to put on all his best becomes, for he was engaged 
to dine with a very fine party at Mrs. Montagu's, was 
as much out of the common road as his figure. He 
had a large, full, bushy wig, a snuff- colour coat, with 
gold buttons (or, per adventure, brass), but no ruffles to 
his doughty fists ; and not, I suppose, to be taken for a 
Blue, though going to the Blue Queen, he had on very 
coarse black worsted stockings. 

He is shockingly near-sighted; a thousand times 

more so than either my Padre or myself. He did not 

even know Mrs. Thrale, till she held out her hand to 

him ; which she did very engagingly. After the first 

t 4 



280 JOHNSONIANA. 

few minutes, he drew his chair close to the piano-forte, 
and then bent down his nose quite over the keys, to 
examine them, and the four hands at work upon them ; 
till poor Hetty and Susan hardly knew how to play on, 
for fear of touching his phiz ; or, which was harder 
still, how to keep their countenances. When the duet 
was finished, my father introduced Hettina to him, as 
an old acquaintance, to whom, when she was a little 
girl, he had presented his Idler. His answer to this 
was imprinting on her pretty face — not a half touch 
of a courtly salute — but a good, real, substantial, and 
very loud kiss. Every body was obliged to stroke their 
chins, that they might hide their mouths. 

Beyond this chaste embrace, his attention was not to 
be drawn off two minutes longer from the books, to 
which he now strided his way. He pored over them, 
shelf by shelf, almost brushing them with his eye-lashes 
from near examination. At last, fixing upon something 
that happened to hit his fancy, he took it down, and, 
standing aloof from the company, which he seemed 
clean and clear to forget, he began, without further cere- 
mony, and very composedly, to read to himself; and 
as intently as if he had been alone in his own study. 
We were all excessively provoked : for we were lan- 
guishing, fretting, expiring to hear him talk — not to 
see him read ! — what could that do for us ? 

421. Garrick. 
They talked of Mr. Garrick, and his late exhibition 
before the King ; to whom, and to the Queen and Royal 
Family, he has been reading Lethe in character ; cest 
a dire, in different voices, and theatrically. Mr. Seward 
gave an amusing account of a fable which Mr. Garrick 
had written by way of prologue, or introduction, upon 
this occasion. In this he says, that a blackbird, grown 
old and feeble, droops his wings, &c, and gives up 
singing ; but, upon being called upon by the eagle, his 



d'arblay. ^81 

voice recovers its powers, his spirits revive, he sets age 
at defiance, and sings better than ever. " There is 
not," said Dr. Johnson, " much of the spirit of fabu- 
losity in this fable ; for the call of an eagle never yet 
had much tendency to restore the warbling of a black- 
bird. 'Tis true, the fabulists frequently make the 
wolves converse with the lambs ; but then, when the 
conversation is over, the lambs are always devoured : 
and, in that manner, the eagle, to be sure, may enter- 
tain the blackbird ; but the entertainment always ends 
in a feast for the eagle/' 

" They say," cried Mrs. Thrale, <c that Garrick was 
extremely hurt by the coldness of the King's applause ; 
and that he did not find his reception such as he had 
expected.'' r< He has been so long accustomed," said 
Mr. Seward, M to the thundering acclamation of a theatre, 
that mere calm approbation must necessarily be insipid, 
nay, dispiriting to him." 

" Sir," said Dr. Johnson, " he has no right, in a 
royal apartment, to expect the hallooing and clamour of 
the one-shilling gallery. The King, I doubt not, gave 
him as much applause as was rationally his due. And, 
indeed, great and uncommon as is die merit of Mr. 
Garrick, no man will be bold enough to assert that he 
has not had his just proportion both of fame and profit. 
He has long reigned the unequalled favourite of the 
public ; and therefore nobody, we may venture to say, 
will mourn his hard lot, if the King and the Royal 
Family were not transported into rapture upon hearing 
him read ' Lethe.' But yet, Mr. Garrick will com- 
plain to his friends; and his friends will lament the 
King's want of feeling and taste. But then, Mr. Gar- 
rick will kindly excuse the King. He will say that his 
Majesty might, perhaps, be thinking of something else ! 
— that the affairs of America might, possibly, occur to 
him — or some other subject of state, more important, 
perhaps, than c Lethe/ But though he will candidly 



282 JOHNSONIANA. 

say this himself, he will not easily forgive his friends if 
they do not contradict him ! " 

" Garrick," he said, " is accused of vanity ; but few 
men would have borne such unremitting prosperity with 
greater, if with equal, moderation. He is accused, too, 
of avarice, though he lives rather like a prince than an 
actor. But the frugality he practised when he first ap- 
peared in the world, has put a stamp upon his character 
ever since. And now, though his table, his equipage, 
and his establishment, are equal to those of persons of 
the most splendid rank, the original stain of avarice still 
blots his name. And yet, had not his early, and per- 
haps necessary economy, fixed upon him the charge of 
thrift, he would long since have been reproached with 
that of luxury." 

Another time he said of him, " Garrick never enters 
a room, but he regards himself as the object of general 
attention, from whom the entertainment of the company 
is expected. And true it is, that he seldom disappoints 
that expectation : for he has infinite humour, a very 
just proportion of wit, and more convivial pleasantry 
than almost any man living. But then, off as well as 
on the stage, he is always an actor ; for he holds it so 
incumbent upon him to be sportive, that his gaiety, from 
being habitual, is become mechanical : and he can exert 
his spirits at all times alike, without any consultation of 
his disposition to hilarity." 

422. Streatham. — "Evelina" 
Dr. Johnson, however undesignedly, was the cause 
of the new author's invitation to Streatham, from being 
the first person who there had pronounced the name of 
"Evelina;" and that previously to the discovery that 
its unknown writer was the daughter of a man whose 
early enthusiasm for Dr. Johnson had merited his warm 
acknowledgments. The curiosity of the Doctor, how* 
ever, though certainly excited, was by no means so 



d'arblay. 283 

powerful as to allure him from his chamher one mo- 
ment before his customary time of descending to dinner; 
and the new author had three or four hours to pass in 
constantly augmenting trepidation : for the prospect of 
seeing him, which so short a time before would have 
sufficed for her delight, was now chequered by the con- 
sciousness that she could not, as heretofore, be in his 
presence only for her own gratification, without any re- 
ciprocity of notice. 

The morning was passed in the library, and to Doctor 
Burney and his daughter was passed deliciously : Mrs. 
Thrale, much amused by the presence of two persons 
so peculiarly situated, put forth her utmost powers of 
pleasing. Ci I wish you had been with us last night, Dr. 
Burney/' she said ; " for thinking of what would hap- 
pen to-day, we could talk of nothing in the world but a 
certain sweet book ; and Dr. Johnson was so full of it, 
that he quite astonished us. He has got those incom- 
parable Brangtons quite by heart, and he recited scene 
after scene of their squabbles, and selfishness, and for- 
wardness, till he quite shook his sides with laughter. 
But his greatest favourite is the Holborn beau, as he 
calls Mr. Smith. Such a fine varnish, he says, of low 
politeness ! such struggles to appear the fine gentleman ! 
such a determination to be genteel ! and, above all, 
such profound devotion to the ladies, — while openly 
declaring his distaste to matrimony ! All this Mr* 
Johnson pointed out with so much comicality of sport, 
that, at last, he got into such high spirits, that he set 
about personating Mr. Smith himself. We all thought 
we must have died no other death than that of suffoca- 
tion, in seeing Dr. Johnson handing about any thing he 
could catch, or snatch at, and making smirking bows, 
saying he was all for the ladies, — every thing that 
was agreeable to the ladies, &c. &c, " except," says 
he, " going to church with them : and as to that, 
though marriage, to be sure, is all in all to the ladies. 



284 JOHNSONIANA. 

marriage to a man — is the devil !" And then he pur. 
sued his personifications of his Holborn beau, till he 
brought him to what Mr. Johnson calls his climax , 
which is his meeting with Sir Clement Willoughby at 
Madame Duval's, where a blow is given at once to his 
self-sufficiency, by the surprise and confusion of seeing 
himself so distanced ; and the hopeless envy with which 
he looks up to Sir Clement, as to a meteor such as he 
himself had hitherto been looked up to at Snow Hill, 
that give a finishing touch to his portrait. And all this 
comic humour of character he says, owes its effect to 
contrast ; for without Lord Orville, and Mr. Villars, 
and that melancholy and gentleman-like half-starved 
Scotchman, poor Macartney, the Brangtons, and the 
Duvals, would be less than nothing ; for vulgarity, in 
its own unshadowed glare, is only disgusting." 

423. Introduction to Johnson. 

When at last we were summoned to dinner, Mrs. 
Thrale made my father and myself sit on each side of 
her. I said, I hoped I did not take the place of Dr. 
Johnson : for, to my great consternation, he did not 
even yet appear, and I began to apprehend he meant to 
abscond. C( No," answered Mrs. Thrale ; ei he will sit 
next to you, — and that, I am sure, will give him great 
pleasure.'* 

Soon after we were all marshalled, the great mart 
entered. Mrs. Thrale introduced me to him with an 
emphasis upon my name that rather frightened me, for 
it seemed like a call for some compliment. But he 
made me a bow the most formal, almost solemn, in utter 
silence, and with his eyes bent downwards. I felt re- 
lieved by this distance, for I thought he had forgotten, 
for the present at least, both the favoured little book 
and the invited little scribbler; and I therefore began 
to answer the perpetual addresses to me of Mrs. Thrale 



d'arblay 285 

with rather more ease. But by the time I was thus re- 
covered from my panic, Dr. Johnson asked my tather 
what was the composition of some little pies on his side 
of the table ; and, while my father was endeavouring to 
make it out, Mrs. Thrale said, " Nothing but mutton, 
Mr. Johnson, so I don't ask you to eat such poor pat- 
ties, because I know you despise them." 

" No, Madam, no ! " cried Dr. Johnson, " I despise 
nothing that is good of its sort. But I am too proud 
now [smiling] to eat mutton pies. Sitting by Miss 
Burney makes me very proud to-day ! " " Miss 
Burney," cried Mrs. Thrale, laughing, u you must take 
great care of your heart, if Mr. Johnson attacks it ; for 
I assure you he is not often successless ! " u What's 
that you say, Madam ? " cried the Doctor ; " are you 
making mischief between the young lady and me 
already ? " 

A little while afterwards, he drank Miss Thrale* s 
health and mine together, in a bumper of lemonade; 
and then added, " It is a terrible thing that we cannot 
wish young ladies to be well, without wishing them to 
become old women ! " " If the pleasures of longevity 
were not gradual," said my father, "if we were to 
light upon them by a jump or a skip, we should be 
cruelly at a loss how to give them welcome." iC But 
some people,'' said Mr. Seward, " are young and old at 
the same time ; for they wear so well, that they never 
look old." " No, Sir, no ! " cried the Doctor ; " that 
never yet was, and never will be. You might as well 
say they were at the same time tall and short. Though 
I recollect an epitaph — I forget upon whom — to that 
purpose : — 

" Miss such a one — lies buried here, 
So early wise, and lasting fair, 
That none, unless her years you told, 
Thought her a child — or thought her oliL* 



286 JOHNSONIANA. 

My father then mentioned Mr. Garrick's epilogue to 
fC Bonduca," which Dr. Johnson called a miserable per- 
formance; and which every body agreed to be the 
worst that Mr. Garrick had ever written. " And yet/' 
said Mr. Seward, "it has been very much admired. 
But it is in praise of English valour, and so, I suppose, 
the subject made it popular." u I do not know, Sir," 
said Dr. Johnson, <c any thing about the subject, for I 
could not read till I came to any. I got through about 
half a dozen lines ; but for subject, I could observe no 
other than perpetual dulness. I do not know what is 
the matter with David. I am afraid he is becoming 
superannuated ; for his prologues and epilogues used to 
be incomparable." 

<e Nothing is so fatiguing," said Mrs. Thrale, iC as 
the life of a wit. Garrick and Wilkes are the oldest 
men of their age that I know ; for they have both worn 
themselves out prematurely by being eternally on the 
rack to entertain others." " David, Madam," said the 
Doctor, " looks much older than he is, because his face 
has had double the business of any other man's. It is 
never at rest. When he speaks one minute, he has 
quite a different countenance to that which he assumes 
the next. I do not believe he ever kept the same look 
for half an hour together in the whole course of his life. 
And such a perpetual play of the muscles must certainly 
wear a man's face out before his time." 

White I was cordially laughing at this idea, the 
Doctor, who had probably observed in me some little 
uneasy trepidation, and now, I suppose, concluded me 
restored to my usual state, suddenly, though very cere- 
moniously, as if to begin some acquaintance with me, 
requested that I would help him to some brocoli. This 
I did; but when he took it, he put on a face of hu- 
morous discontent, and said, "Only this, Madam? 
You would not have helped Mr. Macartney so parsi- 
moniously!" 



d'arblay. 287 

He affected to utter this in a whisper ; but to see him 
directly address me, caught the attention of all the table, 
and every one smiled, though in silence ; while I felt 
so surprised and so foolish, so pleased and so ashamed, 
that I hardly knew whether he meant my Mr. Macart- 
ney, or spoke at random of some other. This, however, 
he soon put beyond all doubt, by very composedly add- 
ing, while contemptuously regarding my imputed par- 
simony on his plate : " Mr. Macartney, it is true, might 
have most claim to liberality, poor fellow ! for how, 
as Tom Brangton shrewdly remarks, should he ever 
have known what a good dinner was, if he had never 
come to England?" Perceiving, I suppose — for it 
could not be very difficult to discern — the commotion 
into which this explication put me; and the stifled dis- 
position to a contagious laugh, which was suppressed, 
not to add to my embarrassment,* he quickly, but 
quietly, went on to a general discourse upon Scotland, 
descriptive and political. 

From Scotland, the talk fell, but I cannot tell how, 
upon some friend of Dr. Johnson's, of whom I did not 
catch the name ; so I will call him Mr. Three Stars, 
* * * ; of whom Mr. Seward related some burlesque 
anecdotes, from which Mr. * * * was warmly vindicated 
by the Doctor. " Better say no more, Mr. Seward," cried 
Mrs. Thrale, " for Mr. * * * is one of the persons that 
Mr. Johnson will suffer no one to abuse but himself. 
Garrick is another : for if any creature but himself says 
a word against Garrick, Mr. Johnson will brow-beat 
him in a moment." " Why, Madam, as to David," • 
answered the Doctor, very calmly, " it is only because 
they do not know when to abuse and when to praise 
him ; and I will allow no man to speak any ill of 
David, that he does not deserve. As to * * *, — why 
really I believe him to be an honest man, too, at the 
bottom : but, to be sure, he is rather penurious ; and 
he is somewhat mean ; and it must be owned he has 



l 28S JOHNSONIANA. 

some degree of brutality ; and is not without a tendency 
to savageness, that cannot well be defended." 

We all laughed, as he could not help doing himself, 
at such a curious mode of taking up his friend's justi- 
fication. And he then related a trait of another friend 
who had belonged to some club ( ] ) that the Doctor 
frequented, who, after the first or second night of his 
admission, desired, as he eat no supper, to be excused 
paying his share for the collation. " And was he ex- 
cused, Sir?" cried my father. "Yes, Sir; and very 
readily. No man is angry with another for being infe- 
rior to himself. We all admitted his plea publicly — 
frr the gratification of scorning him privately ! For 
my own part, I was fool enough to constantly pay my 
share for the wine, which I never tasted. But my poor 
friend Sir John, it cannot well be denied, was but an 
unclubbable man." How delighted was I to hear this 
master of languages, this awful, this dreaded Lexiphanes, 
thus sportively and gaily coin burlesque words in social 
comicality ! 

I don't know whether he deigned to watch me, but 
I caught a glance of his eye that seemed to show plea- 
sure in perceiving my surprise and diversion ; for with 
increased glee of manner he proceeded : — (i This 
reminds me of a gentleman and lady with whom I once 
travelled. I suppose I must call them gentleman and 
lady, according to form, because they travelled in their 
own coach and four horses. But, at the first inn where 
we stopped to water the cattle, the lady called to a waiter 
for — a pint of ale ! And, when it came, she would not 
taste it, till she had wrangled with the man for not 
bringing her fuller measure. Now, Madame Duval 
could not have done a grosser thing ! " 

A sympathetic simper now ran from mouth to mouth, 

(1) At the date of this letter, I knew not that the club to 
which Dr. Johnson alluded was that which was denominated 
his own, — or The Literary Club 



d'arblay. 289 

save to mine, and to that of Dr. Johnson ; who gravely 
pretended to pass off what he had said as if it were a 
merely accidental reminiscence of some vulgar old ac- 
quaintance of his own. And this, as undoubtedly, and 
most kindly, he projected, prevented any sort of answer 
that might have made the hook a subject of general 
discourse. And presently afterwards, he started some 
other topic, which he addressed chiefly to Mr. Thrale. 
But if you expect me to tell you what it was, you think 
far more grandly of my powers of attention without, 
when all within is in a whirl, than I deserve. 

Be it, however, what it might, the next time there 
was a pause, we all observed a sudden play of the mus- 
cles in the countenance of the Doctor, that showed him to 
be secretly enjoying some ludicrous idea: and accordingly, 
a minute or two after, he pursed up his mouth, and, in 
an assumed pert, yet feminine accent, while he tossed 
up his head to express wonder, he affectedly minced 
out, " La, Polly ! — only think ! Miss has danced 
with a Lord ! " This was resistless to the whole set, and 
a general, though a gentle laugh, became now infectious ; 
in which, I must needs own to you, I could not, with 
all my embarrassment, and all my shame, and all my 
unwillingness to demonstrate my consciousness, help 
being caught — so indescribably ludicrous and unex- 
pected was a mimicry of Miss Biddy Brangton from 
Dr. Johnson ! The Doctor, however, with a refinement 
of delicacy of which I have the deepest sense, never once 
cast his eyes my way during these comic traits ; though 
those of every body else in the company had scarcely 
for a moment any other direction. 

But imagine my relief and my pleasure, in play- 
fulness such as this from the great literary Leviathan, 
whom I had dreaded almost as much as I had honoured ! 
How far was I from dreaming of such sportive con- 
descension ! He clearly wished to draw the little snail 
from her cell, and, when once she was out, not to frighteo 

VOL. IX. U 



290 JOHNSONIANA. 

her back. He seems to understand my queeralitiet — 
as some one has called my not liking to be set up for a 
sign-post — with more leniency than any body else." 

424. Lives of the Poets. 

While that charming work, " The Lives of the 
Poets/' was in its progress, when only the Thrale fa- 
mily and its nearly adopted guests, the two Burneys, 
were assembled, Dr. Johnson would frequently produce 
one of its proof sheets to embellish the breakfast table, 
which was always in the library; and was, certainly 
the most sprightly and agreeable meeting of the day ; 
for then, as no strangers were present to stimulate exer- 
tion, or provoke rivalry, argument was not urged on by 
the mere spirit of victory ; it was instigated only by 
such truisms as could best bring forth that conflict of 
pros and cons which elucidates opposing opinions. Wit 
was not flashed with the keen sting of satire ; yet it 
elicited not less gaiety from sparkling with an un- 
w r ounding brilliancy, which brightened, without in- 
flaming, every eye, and charmed, without tingling, 
every ear. 

These proof sheets Mrs. Thrale was permitted to read 
aloud ; and the discussions to which they led were in 
the highest degree entertaining. Dr. Burney wistfully 
desired to possess one of them ; but left to his daughter 
the risk of the petition. A hint, however, proved suf- 
ficient, and was understood not alone with compliance, 
but vivacity. Boswell, Dr. Johnson said, had engaged 
Frank Barber, his negro servant, to collect and preserve 
all the proof sheets ; but though it had not been without 
the knowledge, it was without the order or the inter- 
ference of their author : to the present solicitor, there- 
fore, willingly and without scruple, he now offered an 
entire life ; adding, with a benignant smile, " Choose 
your poet ! " 

Without scruple, also, was the acceptance ; and, 



d'arblay. 291 

without hesitation, the choice was Pope. And that not 
merely because, next to Shakspeare himself, Pope draws 
human characters the most veridically, perhaps, of any- 
poetic delineator ; but for yet another reason. Dr. John- 
son composed with so ready an accuracy, that he sent his 
copy to the press unread ; reserving all his corrections 
for the proof sheets : and, consequently, as not even 
Dr. Johnson could read twice without ameliorating some 
passages, his proof sheets were at times liberally marked 
with changes ; and, as the Museum copy of Pope s 
Translation of the Iliad, from which Dr. Johnson has 
given many examples, contains abundant emendations 
by Pope, I secured at once, on the same page, the mar- 
ginal alterations and second thoughts of that great 
author, and of his great biographer. 

When the book was published, Dr. Johnson brought 
to Streatham a complete set, handsomely bound, of the 
Works of the Poets, as well as his own Prefaces, to 
present to Mr. and Mrs. Thrale. And then, telling me 
that to the King, and to the chiefs of Streatham alone 
he could offer so large a tribute, he most kindly placed 
before me a bound copy of his own part of the work ; 
in the title-page of which he gratified my earnest re- 
quest by writing my name, and cc From the Author." 

After which, at my particular sob citation, he gave 
me a small engraving of his portrait from the picture of 
Sir Joshua Reynolds. And while, some time after- 
wards, I was examining it at a distant table, Dr. 
Johnson, in passing across the room, stopped to discover 
by what I was occupied ; which he no sooner discerned, 
than ho began see-sawing for a moment or two in 
silence ; and then, with a ludicrous half laugh, peeping 
over my shoulder, he called out : (i Ah ha ! — Sam 
Johnson ! — I see thee ! — and an ugly dog thou art ! " 

He even extended his kindness to a remembrance of 
Mr. Bewley, the receiver and preserver of the wisp of 
u 2 



292 JOHNSONIANA. 

a Bolt Court hearth-broom, as a relic of the Author of 
the Rambler ; which anecdote Dr. Burney had ventured 
to confess ; and Dr. Johnson now, with his compliments^ 
sent a set of the Prefaces to St. Martin's Street, directed, 
i( For the Broom Gentleman : " which Mr. Bewley re- 
ceived w r ith rapturous gratitude. 

425. Boswell at full Length. 

When next Dr. Burney took me back to Streatham, 
he found there, recently arrived from Scotland, Mr. Bos- 
well ; whose sprightly Corsican tour, and heroic, almost 
Quixotic, pursuit of General Paoli, joined to the tour 
to the Hebrides with Dr. Johnson, made him an object 
himself of considerable attention. 

He spoke the Scotch accent strongly, though by no 
means so as to affect, even slightly, his intelligibility to 
an English ear. He had an odd mock solemnity of 
tone and manner, that he had acquired imperceptibly 
from constantly thinking of and imitating Dr. Johnson, 
whose own solemnity, nevertheless, far from mock, was 
the result of pensive rumination. There was, also, 
something slouching in the gait and dress of Mr. Bos- 
well, that wore an air, ridiculously enough, of purport- 
ing to personify the same model. His clothes were 
always too large for him ; his hair, or wig, was con- 
stantly in a state of negligence ; and he never for a 
moment sat still or upright upon a chair. Every look 
and movement displayed either intentional or involuntary 
imitation. Yet certainly it was not meant as caricature; 
for his heart, almost even to idolatry, was in his rever- 
ence of Dr. Johnson. 

Dr. Burney was often surprised that this kind of 
farcical similitude escaped the notice of the Doctor ; 
but attributed his missing it to a high superiority over 
any such suspicion, as much as to his near-sightedness ; 
for fully was Dr, Burney persuaded, that had any 
detection of such imitation taken place, Dr. Johnson 



d'arblay. 293 

\vho generally treated Mr. Boswell as a school-boy, 
whom, without the smallest ceremony, he pardoned or 
rebuked, alternately, would so indignantly have been 
provoked, as to have instantaneously inflicted upon him 
some mark of his displeasure. And equally he was 
persuaded that Mr. Boswell, however shocked and even 
inflamed in receiving it, would soon, from his deep 
veneration, have thought it justly incurred ; and, after 
a day or two of pouting and sullenness, would have 
compromised the matter by one of his customary simple 
apologies, of " Pray, Sir, forgive me !" 

Dr. Johnson, though often irritated by the officious 
importunity of Mr. Boswell, was really touched by his 
attachment. It was indeed surprising, and even affect- 
ing, to remark the pleasure with which this great man 
accepted personal kindness, even from the simplest 
of mankind ; and the grave formality with which he 
acknowledged it even to the meanest. Possibly it was 
what he most prized, because what he could least com- 
mand ; for personal partiality hangs upon lighter and 
slighter qualities than those which earn solid ap- 
probation : but of this, if he had least command, he 
had also least want ; his towering superiority of in- 
tellect elevating him above all competitors, and re- 
gularly establishing him, wherever he appeared, as the 
first being of the society. 

As Mr. Boswell was at Streatham only upon a morn- 
ing \isit, a collation was ordered, to which all were 
assembled. Mr. Boswell was preparing to take a seat 
that he seemed, by prescription, to consider as his own, 
next to Dr. Johnson ; but Mr. Seward, who was pre- 
sent, waived his hand for Mr. Boswell to move further 
on, saying, with a smile, " Mr. Boswell, that seat 
is Miss Burney's/' 

He stared, amazed: the asserted claimant was new 
and unknown to him, and he appeared by no means 
u 3 



294 JOHNSONIANA. 

pleased to resign his prior rights. But, after looking 
round for a minute or two, with an important air of 
demanding the meaning of this innovation, and re- 
ce* ing no satisfaction, he reluctantly, almost resent- 
fully, got another chair, and placed it at the back 
of the shoulder of Dr. Johnson ; while this new and 
unheard of rival quietly seated herself as if not hearing 
what was passing ; for she shrunk from the explanation 
that she feared might ensue, as she saw a smile stealing 
over every countenance, that of Dr. Johnson himself 
not excepted, at the discomfiture and surprise of Mr. 
Boswell. 

Mr. Boswell, however, was so situated as not to 
remark it in the Doctor ; and of every one else, when 
in that presence, he was unobservant, if not con- 
temptuous. In truth, when he met with Dr. Johnson, 
he commonly forbore even answering any thing that was 
said, or attending to any thing that went forward, 
lest he should miss the smallest sound from that voice 
to which he paid such exclusive, though merited, 
homage. But the moment that voiee burst forth, the 
attention which it excited in Mr. Boswell amounted 
almost to pain. His eyes goggled with eagerness ; he 
leant his ear almost on the shoulder of the Doctor ; and 
his mouth dropped open to catch every syllable that might 
be uttered : nay, he seemed not only to dread losing a 
word, but to be anxious not to miss a breathing ; as if 
hoping from it, latently, or mystically, some inform- 
ation. 

But when, in a few minutes, Dr. Johnson, whose 
eye did not follow him, and who had concluded him to 
be at the other end of the table, said something gaily 
and good-humouredly, by the appellation of Bozzy; and 
discovered, by the sound of the reply, that Bozzy had 
planted himself, as closely as he could, behind and 
between the elbows of the new usurper and his own, the 
Doctor turned angrily round upon him, and, clapping 



d'arblay. 295 

his hand rather loudly upon his knee, said in a tone of 
displeasure, " What do you do there, Sir ? — Go to 
the table, Sir ! " 

Mr. Boswell instantly, and with an air of affright, 
obeyed : and there was something so unusual in such 
humble submission to so imperious a command, that 
another smile gleamed its way across every mouth, 
except that of the Doctor and of Mr. Boswell; who 
now, very unwillingly, took a distant seat. 

But, ever restless when not at the side of Dr. John- 
son, he presently recollected something that he wished 
to exhibit, and, nastily rising, was running away in its 
search ; when the Doctor, calling after him, authorita- 
tively said : " What are you thinking of, Sir ? Why 
do you get up before the cloth is removed ? Come 
back to your place, Sir ! " 

Again, and with equal obsequiousness, Mr. Boswell 
did as he was bid; when the Doctor, pursing his lips, 
not to betray rising risibility, muttered half to himself : 
(i Running about in the middle of meals ! One .vould 
take you for a Brangton ! — ? " A Brangton, Sir ? " 
repeated Mr. Boswell, with earnestness ; " What is a 
Brangton, Sir ? " w Where have you lived, Sir/' cried 
the Doctor, laughing, " and w T hat company have you 
kept, not to know that ? " 

Mr. Boswell now, doubly curious, yet always appre- 
hensive of falling into some disgrace with Dr. Johnson, 
said, in a low tone, which he knew the Doctor could 
not hear, to Mrs. Thrale : " Pray, Ma'am, what 's a 
Brangton ? — Do me the favour to tell me ? — Is it 
some animal hereabouts ?" Mrs. Thrale only heartily 
laughed, but without answering : as she saw one of her 
guests uneasily fearful of an explanation. But Mr. 
Seward cried, " 1T1 tell you, Boswell — 1 11 tell you ! — if 
you will walk with me into the paddock : only let us wait 
till the table is cleared ; or I shall be taken for a Brang- 
ton, too ! " They soon went off together ; and Mr. 
u 4 



296 JOHNSONIANA. 

Boswell, no doubt, was fully informed of the road that 
had led to the usurpation by which he had thus been 
annoyed. But the Brangton fabricator took care to 
mount to her chamber ere they returned ; and did not 
come down till Mr. Boswell was gone. 

426. Dr. Johnsons last Illness. 

On Dr. Johnson's return from Lichfield, in No- 
vember 17S 4, my father hastened to Bolt Court, but 
had the grief to find his honoured friend much weak- 
ened, and in great pain ; though cheerful, and strug- 
gling to revive. All of Dr. Burney's family, who had 
had the honour of admission, hastened to him also ; 
but chiefly his second daughter, who chiefly and pecu- 
liarly was always demanded. She was received with 
his wonted, his never-failing partiality ; and, as well as 
the Doctor, repeated her visits by every opportunity 
during the ensuing short three weeks of his earthly 
existence. She will here copy, from the diary she sent 
to Boulogne, an account of what, eventually, though un- 
suspectedly, proved to be her last interview with this 
venerated friend : — 

Nov. 25. 1784. — Our dear father lent me the 
carriage this morning for Bolt Court. You will easily 
conceive how gladly I seized the opportunity for making 
a longer visit than usual to my revered Dr. Johnson, 
whose health, since his return from Lichfield, has been 
deplorably deteriorated. He was alone, and I had a 
more satisfactory and entertaining conversation with 
him than I have had for many months past. He was 
in better spirits, too, than I have seen him, except 
upon our first meeting, since he came back to Bolt 
Court. He owned, nevertheless, that his nights were 
grievously restless and painful ; and told me that he 
was going, by medical advice, to try what sleeping out 
of town might do for him. And then, with a smile, 



D ARBLAY. 



297 



but a smile of more sadness than mirth ! he added, 
*' fc I remember that my wife, when she was near her end, 
poor woman ! was also advised to sleep out of town : 
and when she was carried to the lodging that had been 
prepared for her, she complained that the staircase was 
in very bad condition ; for the plaster was beaten off 
the walls in many places. " Oh ! " said the man of the 
house, " that's nothing; it's only the knocks against it 
of the coffins of the poor souls that have died in the 
lodging." He forced a faint laugh at the man's brutal 
honesty ; but it was a laugh of ill-disguised, though 
checked, secret anguish. 

I felt inexpressibly shocked, both by the perspective 
and retrospective view of this relation ; but, desirous to 
confine my words to the literal story, I only exclaimed 
against the man's unfeeling absurdity in making so 
unnecessary a confession. <e True ! " he cried ; Ci such a 
confession, to a person then mounting his stairs for the 
recovery of her health, or, rather, for the preservation 
of her jife, contains, indeed, more absurdity than we 
can well lay our account to." 

We talked then of poor Mrs. Thrale, but only for 
a moment ; for I saw him so greatly moved, and with 
such severity of displeasure, that I hastened to start 
another subject; and he solemnly enjoined me to 
mention that no more. 

I gave him concisely the history of the Bristol milk- 
woman, who is at present zealously patronised by the 
benevolent Hannah More. I expressed my surprise at 
the reports generally in circulation, tha^ th^Trirst authors 
that the milk-woman read, if not the only ones, were 
Milton and Young. « I find it difficult," I added, " to 
conceive how Milton and Young could be the first 
authors with any reader. Could a child understand 
them ? And grown persons, who have never read, are 9 
in literature, children still." 



298 J0HNS0NI-4NA. 

ce Doubtless," he answered. " But there is nothing 
so little comprehended as what is genius. They give 
it to all, when it can be but a part. The milk-woman 
had surely begun with some ballad — " Chevy Chase, " 
or the ** Children in the Wood." Genius is, in fact, 
knowing the use of tools. But there must be tools, or 
how use them ? A man who has spent all his life 
in this room, will give a very poor account of what is 
contained in the next." " Certainly, Sir ; and yet 
there is such a thing as invention? Shakspeare could 
never have seen a Caliban ? " 

" No; but he had seen a man, and knew how to 
vary him to a monster. A person who would draw a 
monstrous cow, must know first what a cow is com- 
monly ; or how can he tell that to give her an ass's 
head, or an elephants tusk, will make her monstrous ? 
Suppose you show me a man who is a very expert car- 
penter, and that an admiring stander-by, looking at some 
of his works, exclaims : * O ! he was born a carpenter ! * 
What would have become of that birthright if he had 
never seen any wood ? " 

Presently, dwelling on this idea, he went on, " Let 
two men, one with genius, the other with none, look 
together at an overturned waggon ; he who has no ge- 
nius will think of the waggon only as he then sees it ; 
that is to say, overturned, and walk on : he who has 
genius will give it a glance of examination, that will 
paint it to his imagination such as it was previously to 
its being overturned, and when it was standing still, 
and when it was in motion, and when it was heavy 
loaded, and when it was empty ; but both alike must 
see the waggon to think of it at all." 

The pleasure with which I listened to his illustration 
now animated him on ; and he talked upon this milk- 
woman, and upon a once as famous shoemaker; and 
then mounted his spirits and his subject to our immortal 
Shakspeare ; flowing and glowing on, with as much wit 



d'arblay. 299 

and truth of criticism and judgment, as ever yet I have 
heard him display; but, alack-a-day ! my Susan, I have 
no power to give you the participation so justly your 
due. My paper is rilling; and I have no franks for 
doubling letters across the channel ! But delightfully 
bright are his faculties, though the poor, infirm, shaken 
machine that contains them seems alarmingly giving 
way ! And soon, exhilarated as he became by the plea- 
sure of bestowing pleasure, I saw a palpable increase of 
suffering in the midst of his sallies ; I offered, there- 
fore, to go into the next room, there to wait for the 
carriage; an offer which, for the first time, he did not 
oppose ; but taking, and most affectionately pressing, 
both my hands, (c Be not," he said, in a voice of even 
melting kindness and concern, " be not longer in coming 
again for my letting you go now ! " I eagerly assured 
him I would come the sooner, and was running off; but 
he called me back, and in a solemn voice, and a manner 
the most energetic, said : " Remember me il your 
prayers ! " 

How affecting such an injunction from Dr. Johnson ! 
It almost — as once before — made me tremble, from 
surprise and emotion — surprise he could so honour me, 
and emotion that he should think himself so ill. I 
longed to ask him so to remember me 1 but he was too 
serious for any parleying, and I knew him too well for 
offering any disqualifying speeches : I merely, in a low 
voice, and I am sure, a troubled accent, uttered an 
instant and heartfelt assurance of obedience ; and then, 
very heavily indeed in spirits, I left him. 

From this meeting I felt redoubled anxiety, both for 
the health and the sight of this illustrious invalid. But 
all accounts thenceforward discouraged my return to 
him ; his pains daily becoming greater, and his weak- 
ness more oppressive ; added to which obstacles, he was 
now constantly attended by a group of male friends. 
I was soon afterwards engaged on a visit to Norbury 



300 JOHNSON ANA. 

Park ; but immediately upon my return to town, pre- 
sented myself, according to my willing promise, at Bolt 
Court. Frank Barber, the faithful negro, told me, with 
great sorrow, that his master was very bad indeed, 
though he did not keep his bed. The poor man would 
have shown me up stairs. This I declined, desiring 
only that he would let the Doctor know that I had 
called to pay my respects to him, but would by no 
means disturb him, if he were not well enough to see 
me without inconvenience. 

Mr. Strahan, the clergyman, was with him, Frank 
said, alone ; and Mr. Strahan, in a few minutes, de- 
scended. Dr. Johnson, he told me, was very ill indeed, 
but much obliged to me for coming to him ; and he 
had sent Mr. Strahan to thank me in his name ; but to 
say that he was so very weak, that he hoped I would 
excuse his not seeing me. 

I was greatly disappointed ; but, leaving a message 
of the most affectionate respect, acquiesced, and drove 
away ; painfully certain how extremely ill, or how sor- 
rowfully low he must be, to decline the sight of one 
whom so constantly, so partially, he had pressed, nay, 
adjured, " to come to him again and again." Fast, 
however, was approaching the time when he could so 
adjure me no more ! From my firm conviction of his 
almost boundless kindness to me, I was fearful now to 
importune or distress him, and forbore, for the moment, 
repeating my visits ; leaving in Dr. Burney's hands all 
propositions for their renewal. 

On Friday, the 10th of December, Mr. Seward 
brought to my father the alarming intelligence from 
Frank Barber, that Dr. Warren had seen his master, 
and told him that he might take what opium he pleased 
for the alleviation of his pains. Dr. Johnson instantly 
understood, and impressively thanked him, and then 
gravely took a last leave of him ; after which, with the 



D AR3LAY. 301 

Utmost kindness, as well as composure, he formally bid 
adieu to all his physicians. 

Dr. Burney, in much affliction, hurried to Bolt 
Court ; but the invalid seemed to be sleeping, and could 
not be spoken to till he should open his eyes. Mr. 
Strahan, the clergyman, gave, however, the welcome 
information, that the terror of death had now passed 
away ; and that this excellent man no longer looked 
forward with dismay to his quick-approaching end ; but, 
on the contrary, with what he himself called the irra- 
diation of hope. 

This was, indeed, the greatest of consolations, at so 
awful a crisis, to his grieving friend ; nevertheless, Dr. 
Burney was deeply depressed at the heavy and irrepar- 
able loss he was so soon to sustain ; but he determined 
to make, at least, one more effort for a parting sight of 
his so long-honoured friend. And, on Saturday, the 
J 1th December, to his unspeakable comfort, he arrived 
at Bolt Court just as the poor invalid was able to be 
visible ; and he was immediately admitted. 

Dr. Burney found him seated on a great chair, propped 
up by pillows, and perfectly tranquil. He affectionately 
took my father's hand, and kindly inquired after his 
health, and that of his family; and then, as evermore 
Dr. Johnson was wont to do, he separately and very 
particularly named and dwelt upon his second daughter; 
gently adding, " I hope Fanny did not take it amiss, 
that I did not see her that morning ? — I was very bad 
indeed ! " Dr. Burney answered, that the word amiss 
could never be a propos to her ; and least of all now, 
when he was so very ill. 

My father ventured to stay about half an hour, which 
was partly spent in quiet discourse, partly in calm si- 
lence ; the invalid always perfectly placid in looks and 
manner. When he was retiring, Dr. Johnson again 
took his hand and encouraged him to call yet another 
time; and afterwards, when again he was departing, 



302 JOHNSONIANA. 

Dr. Johnson impressively said, though in a low voice 
" Tell Fanny to pray for me ! " And then, still 
holding, or rather grasping, his hand, he made a prayer 
for himself, the most pious, humble, eloquent, and 
touching, Dr. Burney said, that mortal man could com- 
pose and utter. He concluded it with an amen ! in 
which Dr. Burney fervently joined; and which was 
spontaneously echoed by all who were present. 

This over, he brightened up, as if with revived spirits, 
and opened cheerfully into some general conversation ; 
and when Dr. Burney, yet a third time, was taking his 
reluctant leave, something of his old arch look played 
upon his countenance as, smilingly, he said, ec Tell 
Fanny, I think I shall yet throw the ball at her 
again \" A kindness so lively, following an injunction 
so penetrating, reanimated a hope of my admission ; 
and, after church, on the ensuing morning, Sunday, the 
12 th of December, with the fullest approbation of Dr. 
Burney, I repaired once more to Bolt Court. But 
grievously was I overset on hearing, at the door, that 
the Doctor was worse, and could receive no one. I 
summoned Frank Barber, and told him I had under- 
stood, from my father, that Dr. Johnson had meant to 
see me. Frank then, but in silence, conducted me to 
the parlour. I begged him merely to mention to the 
Doctor, that I had called with most earnest inquiries ; 
but not to hint at any expectation of seeing him till he 
should be better. 

Frank went up stairs ; but did not return. A full 
hour was consumed in anxious waiting. I then saw 
Mr. Langton pass the parlour door, which I watchfully 
kept open, and ascend the stairs. I had not courage to 
stop or speak to him, and another hour lingered on in 
the same suspense. 

But, at about four o'clock, Mr. Langton made his 
appearance in the parlour. I took it for granted he 
came accidentally, but observed that, though he bowed 



d'arblay. 303 

he forbore to speak, or even to look at me, and seemed 
in much disturbance. Extremely alarmed, I durst not 
venture at any question ; But Mrs. Davis, who was 
there, uneasily asked, iC How is Dr. Johnson now, Sir? " 
cc Going on to death very fast ! " was the mournful 
reply. Grievously shocked and overset by so hopeless 
a sentence, after an invitation so sprightly of only the 
preceding evening from the dying man himself, 1 turned 
to the window to recover from so painful a disappoint- 
ment. tc Has he taken any thing, Sir?" said Mrs. 
Davis. " Nothing at all ! We carried him some bread 
and milk : he refused it, and said, c The less the 
better ! ' ,; Mrs. Davis then asked sundry other ques- 
tions, from the answers to which it fully appeared that 
his faculties were perfect, and that his mind was quite 
composed. 

This conversation lasted about a quarter of an hour, 
before I had any suspicion that Mr. Langton had en- 
tered the parlour purposely to speak to me, and with a 
message from Dr. Johnson ; but as soon as I could 
summon sufficient firmness to turn round, Mr. Langton, 
solemnly said, " The Doctor is very sorry indeed not 
to see you ; but he desired me to come and speak to 
you for him myself, and to tell you, that he hopes 
you will excuse him ; for he feels himself too weak for 
such an interview." Touched to the very heart by so 
kind, though sorrowful a message, at a moment that 
seemed so awful, I hastily expressed something like 
thanks to Mr. Langton, who was visibly affected ; and, 
leaving my most affectionate respects, with every warmly 
kind wish I could half utter, I hurried back to my 
father's coach. The very next day, Monday, the 1 3th 
of December, Dr. Johnson expired, and without a groan. 
Expired, it is thought, in his sleep. 



304< JOHNSONIAN A. 



Part XVII. 



ANECDOTES OF DR. JOHNSON, 
BY DR. BEATTIE. (>) 



427- Johnsons " Journey." 
Johnson's " Journey to the Hebrides" contains many 
things worthy of the author, and is, on the whole, very 
entertaining. His account of the isles is, I dare say, 
very just : I never was there, and therefore can say no- 
thing of them, from my own knowledge. His account 
of some facts, relating to other parts of Scotland, are not 
unexceptionable : either he must have been misin- 
formed, or he must have misunderstood his informer, in 
regard to several of his remarks on the improvement of 
the country. I am surprised at one of his mistakes, 
which leads him once or twice into perplexity and false 
conjecture : he seems not to have known, that, in the 
common language of Scotland, Irish and Erse are both 
used to denote the speech of the Scots Highlanders ; 
and are as much synonymous (at least, in many parts of 
the kingdom) as Scotch and Scottish. Irish is generally 
thought the genteeler appellation ; and Erse, the vulgar 
and colloquial. His remarks on the trees of Scotland 
must greatly surprise a native. In some of our pro- 
vinces trees cannot be reared by any mode of cultivation 
we have yet discovered ; in some, where trees flourish 
extremely well, they are not much cultivated, because 
they are not necessary ; but in others, we have store of 
wood, and forests of great extent, and of great anti- 
quity. I admire Johnson's genius ; I esteem him for 
his virtues ; I shall ever cherish a grateful remembrance 

(1) [From Sir William Forbes's Life of Dr. Beattie.] 



BEATTIE, 305 

Of the civilities I have received from him : I have 
often, in this country, exerted myself in defence both of 
his character and writings ; but there are in this book 
several things which I cannot defend. 

428. Mr. and Mrs. Thrale. — Goldsmith. 

I was introduced to Mr. and Mrs. Thrale by Dr. 
Johnson, and received many and great civilities from 
both. Mr. Thrale was a most respectable character ; 
intelligent, modest, communicative, and friendly ; and 
I greatly admired his wife for her vivacity, learning, 
affability, and beauty: I thought her, indeed, one of 
the most agreeable women I ever saw ; and could not 
have imagined her capable of acting so unwise a part as 
she afterwards did. What she says of Goldsmith is 
perfectly true. He was a poor fretful creature, eaten 
up with affectation and envy. He was the only person 
I ever knew who acknowledged himself to be envious. 
In Johnson's presence he was quiet enough ; but in his 
absence expressed great uneasiness on hearing him 
praised. 

429* Mrs. Montagu. 

Johnson's harsh censure of Mrs. Montagu's Essay on 
Shakspeare does not surprise me ; for I have heard him 
speak contemptuously of it. It is, for all that, one of 
the best, the most original, and most elegant pieces of 
criticism in our language, or in any other. Johnson 
had many of the talents of a critic j but his want of 
temper, his violent prejudices, and something, I am 
afraid, of an envious turn of mind, made him often an 
unfair one. Mrs. Montagu was very kind to him ; but 
Mrs. Montagu has more wit than any body ; and John- 
son could not bear that any person should be thought 
to have wit but himself. Even Lord Chesterfield, and, 
what is more strange, even Mr. Burke, he would not 
allow to have wit. He preferred Smollett to Fielding. 
He would not grant that Armstrong's poem of ff Health," 

vol. IX. x 



306 JOHNSONIANA. 

or the tragedy of " Douglas/' had any merit. He told 
me, that he never read Milton through, till he was 
obliged to do it, in order to gather words for his Dic- 
tionary. He spoke very peevishly of the ce Masque of 
Comus ;" and when I urged, that there was a great deal 
of exquisite poetry in it, cc Yes," said he, " but it is 
like gold hid under a rock ; " to which I made no reply ; 
for indeed I did not well understand it. 

430. Johnson in 1781. 
Johnson grows in grace as he grows in years. He 
not only has better health and a fresher complexion 
than ever he had before (at least since I knew him), 
but he has contracted a gentleness of manners which 
pleases every body. Some ascribe this to the good 
company to which he has of late been more accustomed 
than in the early part of his life. There may be some- 
thing in this ; but / am apt to think the good health 
he has enjoyed for a long time is the chief cause. Mr. 
Thrale appointed him one of his executors, and left 
him two hundred pounds ; every body says, he should 
have left him two hundred a year; which, from a for- 
tune like his, would have been a very inconsiderable 
reduction. 

431. Lives of the Poets. 
I have been reading Johnson's Prefaces to the En- 
glish edition of the Poets. There are many excellent 
things in them, particularly in the Lives of Milton, 
Dryden, and Waller. He is more civil to Milton than 
I expected, though he hates him for his blank verse and 
his politics. To the forced and unnatural conceits of 
Cowley, I think he is too favourable ; and I heartily 
wish, that, instead of the poems of this poet, he had 
given us " The Faerie Queen " of Spenser, which is left 
out very absurdly. 



BEATTIE. 307 

432. Milton. 
Johnson hated Milton from his heart ; and he wished 
to be himself considered as a good Latin poet, which, 
however, he never was, as may be seen by his trans- 
lation of Pope's " Messiah." 

433. BoswelVs " Tour:* 
I have just gone through Boswell's book. He is 
very good to me, as Dr. Johnson always was ; and I 
am very grateful to both : but I cannot approve the 
plan of such a work. To publish a man's letters, or 
his conversation, without his consent, is not, in my 
opinion, quite fair : for how many things, in the hour 
of relaxation, or in friendly correspondence, does a man 
throw out, which he would never wish to hear of again ; 
and what a restraint would it be on all social inter- 
course, if one were to suppose that every word one 
utters would be entered in a register ! Mr. Bosvv ell in- 
deed says, that there are few men who need be under 
any apprehension of that sort. This is true ; and the 
argument he founds en it would be good, if he had 
published nothing but what Dr. Johnson and he said 
and did ; for Johnson, it seems, knew that the pub- 
lication would be made, and did not object to it : but 
Mr. Bos well has published the sayings and doings of 
other people, who never consented to any such thing ; 
and who little thought, when they were doing their 
best to entertain and amuse the two travellers, that a 
story would be made of it, and laid before the public. 
I approve of the Greek proverb, that says, " 1 hate a 
bottle companion with a memory." If my friend, after 
eating a bit of mutton with me, should go to the 
coffee-house, and there give an account of every thing 
that had passed, I believe I should not take it well. 



x 2 



308 JOHNSONIANA. 



Part XVIII. 



ANECDOTES OF DR. JOHNSON, 
BY THE RT. HON. W. WINDHAM.(i) 



[To the kindness of Thomas Amyot, Esq. F.R.S., the Editor is indebted 
for the following Memoranda, extracted from Mr. Windham's Diary for 
1784, of the Conversations he had with Dr. Johnson during his visit at 
Ashbourne; where he arrived on the 30th of August, " leaving it," as 
he states, *' with regret, at half-past one on the 1st of September."] 



434. Homer. 
" The source of every thing, either in or out of 
nature, that can serve the purpose of poetry, is to be 
found in Homer ; — every species of distress, every 
modification of heroic character, battles, storms, ghosts, 
incantations, &c." 

435. Odyssey. 
" Dr. Johnson said, he had never read through tne 
Odyssey completely in the original." 

436. Johnson s first Declamation. 

" Anecdote of his first declamation at College, that 

having neglected to write it till the morning of his 

being to repeat it, and having only one copy, he got 

part of it by heart, while he was walking into the Hall, 



(1 ) [In a letter to Dr. Brocklesby, dated September 2., John- 
son says — " Windham has been here to see me : he came, I 
think, forty miles out of his way, and stayed about a day and a 
half; perhaps I make the time shorter than it was. Such con- 
versation I shall not have again till I come back to the regions 
of literature ; and there Windham is inter Stellas Luna minores."] 



WINDHAM. S09 

and the rest he repeated as well as he could extem- 
pore." (*) 

437. The Ramei. 
u Anecdote of his tutor, who told them that the 
Ramei, the followers of Ramus, were so called from 
Ramus, a bow." 

438. Johnsons Idleness. 

" Description of himself as very idle and neglectful 
of his studies." 

439. Latin. 

" His opinion, that I could not name above five of 
my college acquaintance who read Latin with case suf- 
ficient to make it pleasurable. The difficulties of the 
language overpower the desire of reading the author. 

iC That he read Latin with as much ease when he 
went to eollege as at present/' 

440. Ovid's Fasti.— Wotton. — Wood. 
" Recommended the reading the Fasti of Ovid, — 
also Wotton, and Wood on Homer." 

441 . Death of Hercules. 
ie Commended Ovid's description of the death of 
Hercules — doubted whether Virgil would not have 
loaded the description with too many fine words." 

442. Styles. 
" Opinion that there were three ways in which 
writing might be unnatural; — by being bombastic and 
above nature — affected and beside it, fringing events 
with ornaments which nature did not afford — or weak 
and below nature. That neither of the first would 
please long. That the third might indeed please a 
good while, or at least please many ; because imbecilitv. 

(1) [See ante, Vol. 1. p. 60. — C.j 



310 JOHNSONIANA. 

and consequently a love of imbecility, might be found 
in many." 

443. A Good Work. 
" Baretti had told him of some Italian author, who 
said that a good work must be that with which the 
vulgar were pleased, and of which the learned could tell 
why it pleased — that it must be able to employ the 
learned, and detain the idle. Chevy Chase pleased the 
vulgar, but did not satisfy the learned ; it did not fill a 
mind capable of thinking strongly. The merit of 
Shakspeare was such as the ignorant could take in, and 
the learned add nothing to/' 

444. " Stat magni nominis" tyc* 
Ci Stat magni nominis umbra he would construe as, 
umbra quce est magni nominis , h. e. ceiebrata." 

445. Rowes Lucan. 
ci Opinion of Rowe's translation of Lucan, that it 
would have been improved, if Rowe had had a couple 
of years to render it less paraphrastical." 

446. Virgil. 
" Vast change of the Latin language from the time 
of Virgil to Lucretius ; — greater than known in any 
other, even the French. The story of Dido is in Ovid's 
Fasti, also of Mezentius. Virgil's invention there- 
fore is less than supposed. ' Take from his what is in 
Homer, what do you leave him ? ' " 

447. Latin. 
" The pretensions of the English to the reputation, 
of writing LRtin is founded not so much on the speci- 
mens in that way which they have produced, as on the 
quantity of talent diffused through the country." 



WINDHAM. 311 

448. Erasmus. 
" Erasmus appears to be totally ignorant of science 
and natural knowledge. But one Italian writer is men- 
tioned in Erasmus; whence Johnson conjectured that 
he did not understand Italian." 

449. Turnpike Roads. 
" Opinion about the effect of turnpike roads. Every 
place communicating with each other. Before, there 
were cheap places and dear places. Now all refuges 
are destroyed for elegant or genteel poverty. Want of 
such a last hope to support men in their struggle through 
life, however seldom it might he resorted to. Disunion 
of families by furnishing a market to each man's abili- 
ties, and destroying the dependence of one man on 
another." 

\_The following interesting Account of Mr. Wiudhams 
Conversations with Dr. Johnson, a few Days before 
his Death, is extracted from the same Journal.^ 

450. Johnsons last Illness and Death. 

Tuesday, December 7. 1784. — Ten minutes past 2, 
p. m. — After waiting some short time in the adjoining 
room, I was admitted to Dr. Johnson in his bed- 
chamber, where, after placing me next him in the chair 
(he sitting in his usual place, on the east side of the 
room, and I on his right hand), he put into my hands 
two small volumes (an edition of the New Testament, 
as he afterwards told me), saying, " Extremum hoc 
munus morientis habeto." 

He then proceeded to observe that I was entering 
upon a life which would lead me deeply into all the 
business of the world : that he did not condemn civil 
employment, but that it was a state of great danger, 
and that he had therefore one piece of advice earnestly 
x 4 



312 JOHNSONIANA. 

to impress upon me, that I would set apart every 
seventh day for the care of my soul. That one day, 
the seventh, should be employed in repenting what was 
amiss in the six preceding, and fortifying my virtue for 
the six to come. That such a portion of time was 
surely little enough for the meditation of eternity. 

He then told me that he had a request to make to 
me ; namely, that I would allow his servant Frank to 
look up to me as his friend, adviser, and protector, in 
all difficulties which his own weakness and imprudence, 
or the force or fraud of others, might bring him into. 
He said that he had left him what he considered an 
ample provision, viz. seventy pounds per annum ; but 
that even that sum might not place him above the want 
of a protector, and to me, therefore, he recommended 
him as to one who had will, and power, and activity to 
protect him. Having obtained my assent to this, he 
proposed that Frank should be called in ; and desiring 
me to take him by the hand in token of the promise, 
repeated before him the recommendation he had just 
made of him, and the promise I had given to attend 
to it. 

I then took occasion to say how much I felt — what 
I had long foreseen that I should feel — regret at having 
spent so little of my life in his company. I stated this 
as an instance where resolutions are deferred till the oc- 
casions are past. For some time past I had determined 
that such an occasion of self-reproach should not sub- 
sist, and had built upon the hope of passing in his 
society the chief part of my time, at the moment when 
it was to be apprehended we were about to lose him for 
ever. 

I had no difficulty in speaking to him thus of my 
apprehensions. I could not help, on the other hand, 
entertaining hopes, but with these I did not like to 
trouble him, lest he should conceive that I thought it 
necessary to flatter him : he answered hastily, that he 



WINDHAM. 313 

was sure I would not ; and proceeded to make a com- 
pliment to the manliness of my mind, which; whether 
deserved or not, ought to be remembered, that it may 
be deserved. 

I then stated, that among other neglects was the 
omission of introducing of all topics the most important, 
the consequence of which particularly filled my mind 
at that moment, and in which I had often been de- 
sirous to know his opinions ; the subjects I meant 
were, I said, natural and revealed religion. The wish 
thus generally stated, was in part gratified on the instant. 
For revealed religion, he said, there was such historical 
evidence, as, upon any subject not religious, would 
have left no doubt. Had the facts recorded in the New 
Testament been mere civil occurrences, no one would 
have called in question the testimony by which they 
are established ; but the importance annexed to them, 
amounting to nothing less than the salvation of man- 
kind, raised a cloud in our minds, and created doubts 
unknown upon any other subject. Of proofs to be de- 
rived from history, one of the most cogent, he seemed 
to think, was the opinion so well authenticated, and so 
long entertained, of a deliverer that was to appear about 
that time. Among the typical representations, the 
sacrifice of the Paschal Lamb, in which no bone was to 
be broken, had early struck his mind. For the imme- 
diate life and miracles of Christ, such attestation as 
that of the apostles, who all, except St. John, confirmed 
their testimony with their blood — such belief as these 
witnesses procured from a people best furnished with 
the means of judging, and least disposed to judge fa- 
vourably — such an extension afterwards of that belief 
over all the nations of the earth, though originating 
from a nation of all others most despised, would leave 
no doubt that the things witnessed were true, and were 
of a nature more than human. With respect to evi- 
dence, Dr. Johnson observed that we had not such 



314 JOHNSONIANA. 

evidence that Caesar died in the Capitol, as that Christ 
died in the manner related. 

December 11. — Went with Sir Joshua, whom I 
took up by the way, to see Dr. Johnson. Strahan and 
Langton there. No hopes ; though a great discharge 
had taken place from the legs. 

December 12. — At about half-past seven p. m. 
went to Dr. Johnson's, where I stayed, chiefly in the 
outer room, till past eleven. Strahan there during the 
whole time ; during part Mr. Hoole ; and latterly Mr. 
Cruikshanks and the apothecary. I only went in twice, 
for a few minutes each time : the first time I hinted 
only what they had before been urging ; namely, that 
he would be prevailed upon to take some sustenance, 
and desisted upon his exclaiming, " ' T is all very child- 
ish ; let us hear no more of it." The second time I 
came in, in consequence of a consultation with Mr. 
Cruikshanks and the apothecary, and addressed him 
formally, after premising that I considered what 1 was 
going to say as matter of duty ; I said that I hoped he 
would not suspect me of the weakness of importuning 
him to take nourishment for the purpose of prolonging 
his life for a few hours or days. I then stated what 
the reason was. It was to secure that which I was 
persuaded he was most anxious about ; namely, that 
he might preserve his faculties entire to the last mo- 
ment. Before I had quite stated my meaning, he 
interrupted me by saying, that he had refused no sus- 
tenance but inebriating sustenance ; and proceeded to 
give instances where, in compliance with the wishes of 
his physician, he had taken even a small quantity of 
wine. I readily assented to any objections he might 
have to nourishment of that kind, and observing that 
milk was the only nourishment I intended, flattered 
myself that I had succeeded in my endeavours, when 
he recurred to his general refusal, and ce begged that 
there might be an end of it." I then said, that I 



WINDHAM. 315 

hoped he would forgive my earnestness, or something 
to that effect, when he replied eagerly, that from me 
nothing could be necessary by way of apology ; adding, 
with great fervour, in words which I shall, I hope, 
never forget, i( God bless you, my dear Windham, 
through Jesus Christ;" and concluding with a wish 
" that we might [share] in some humble portion of 
that happiness which God might finally vouchsafe to 
repentant sinners." These were the last words I ever 
heard him speak. I hurried out of the room with tears 
in my eyes, and more affected than I had been on any 
former occasion. 

December 13. — In the morning meant to have 
met Mr. Cruikshanks in Bolt Court ; but while I was 
deliberating about going, was sent for by Mr Burke. 
Went to Bolt Court about half-past three, found that 
Dr. Johnson had been almost constantly asleep since 
nine in the morning, and heard from Mr. Desmoulins 
what passed in the night. He had compelled Frank 
to give him a lancet, and had besides concealed in the 
bed a pair of scissors, and w r ith one or the other of 
them had scarified himself in three places, two of them 
in the leg. On Mr. Desmoulins making a difficulty in 
giving him the lancet, he said, " Don't, if you have 
any scruple; but I will compel Frank:" and on Mr. 
Desmoulins attempting afterwards to prevent Frank 
from giving it to him, and at last to restrain his hand, 
he grew very outrageous, so as to call Frank scoundrel, 
and to threaten Mr. Desmoulins that he would stab 
him( ] ) ; he then made the three incisions above men- 

(1) See ante, p. 166. The reader will judge whether Boswell's 
or Hawkins's account of this transaction is the juster ; but that 
more importance may not be given to it than it deserves, it must 
be recollected, that Johnson fancied that his attendants were 

treating him with a timid leniency, merely to spare him pain, 

a notion which irritated, at once, his love of life, his animal cou- 
rage, and his high moral principle. We have already seen [ante, 
D. 137.) that when in health he had said, " Whoever is afraid of 



316 JOHNSONIANA. 

tioned, two of which were not unskilfully made ; but 
one of those in the leg was a deep and ugly wound, 
from which they suppose him to have lost at least eight 
ounces of blood. 

Upon Dr. Heberden expressing his fears about the 
scarification, Dr. Johnson told him he was timidorum 
timidissimus. A few days before his death, talking 
with Dr. Brocklesby, he said, <e Now will you ascribe 
my death to my having taken eight grains of squills, 
when you recommended only three? Dr. Heberden, 
to my having opened my left foot, when nature was 
pointing out the discharge in the right?" The con- 
versation was introduced by his quoting some lines, to 
the same purpose, from Swift's verses on his own 
death.( ] ) 

It was within the same period, if I understood 
Dr. Brocklesby right, that he enjoined him, as an 
honest man and a physician, to inform him how long 
he thought he had to live. Dr. Brocklesby inquired, 
in return, whether he had firmness to bear the answer. 
Upon his replying that he had, and Dr. Brocklesby 
limiting the time to a few weeks, he said, (i that he 
then would trouble himself no more with medicine or 
medical advice : " and to this resolution he pretty much 
adhered. 



any thing is a scoundrel " and now, in the same feeling, and the 
same words, he censures the cowardly, as he thought them, ap- 
prehensions of his attendants. It might be wished that in such 
circumstances he had spoken and acted with less impatience ; 
but let us not forget the excuses which may be drawn from the 
natural infirmity of his temper, exasperated by the peevishness 
of a long and painful disease. — C. 

(1) " The doctors, tender of their fame, 

Wisely on one lay all the blame : 
' We must confess his case was nice, 
But he would never take advice; 
Had he been ruled, for aught appears, 
He might have lived these twenty years ; 
For when we open'd him, we found 
That all his vital parts v. ere sound.' ^ — C. 



WINDHAM. 317 

In a conversation about what was practicable in 
medicine or surgery, he quoted, to the surprise of his 
physicians, the opinion of Marchetti for an operation of 
extracting (I think) part of the kidney. He recom- 
mended for an account of China, Sir John MandevihVs 
Travels. Holyday's Notes on Juvenal he thought so 
highly of as to have employed himself for some time 
in translating them into Latin. 

He insisted on the doctrine of an expiatory sacrifice 
as the condition without which there was no Christi- 
anity ; and urged in support the belief entertained 
in all ages, and by all nations, barbarous as well as 
polite. He recommended to Dr. Brocklesby, also, 
Clarke's Sermons, and repeated to him the passage 
which he had spoken of to me. 

While airing one day with Dr. Brocklesby, in 
passing and returning by St. Pancras church, he fell 
into prayer, and mentioned, upon Dr. Brocklesby 's in- 
quiring why the Catholics chose that for their burying 
place, that some Catholics, in Queen Elizabeth's time, 
had been burnt there. (*) Upon Dr. Brocklesby's ask- 
ing him whether he did not feel the warmth of the sun. 
he quoted from Juvenal — 

" Praeterea minimus gelido jam in corpore sanguis 
Febre calet sola." ( 3 ) 

December 13. — Forty-five minutes past ten p.m. 
— While writing the preceding articles — I received the 
fatal account, so long dreaded, that Dr. Johnson was 
no more ! 



(1) The reader will be aware that otlier causes have been as- 
signed for this preference; but I learn, from unquestionable 
authority, that it rests upon no foundation, and that mere pre- 
judice exists amongst the Roman Catholics in favour of this 
church, as is the case with respect to other places of burial in 
various parts of the kingdom Marklaxd. 

(2) [" Add that a fever only warms his veins, 

And thaws the little blood that yet remains." — GiffordJ 



318 JOHNSONIANA 

May those prayers which he incessantly poured 
from a heart fraught with the deepest devotion, find 
their acceptance with Him to whom they were ad- 
dressed ; which piety, so humble and so fervent, may 
seem to promise ! 



Part XIX. 



ANECDOTES OF DR. JOHNSON, 
BY HANNAH MORE, (i) 



451. Introduction to Johnson. 

Hannah More visited London in 1773 or 1774, in 
company with two of her sisters. The desire she had 
long felt to see Dr. Johnson was speedily gratified. 
Her first introduction to him took place at the house of 
Sir Joshua Reynolds, who prepared her, as he handed 
her up stairs, for the possibility of his being in one of 
his moods of sadness and silence. She was surprised at 
his coining to meet her as she entered the room, with 
good humour in his countenance, and a macaw of Sir 
Joshua's on his hand ; and still more at his assisting 
her with a verse from a Morning Hymn, which she had 
written at the desire of Sir James Stonehouse. In the 
same pleasant humour he continued the whole of the 
evening. 

(1) From the very interesting Memoirs of the Life and Cor, 
despondence of Mrs, Hannah More, by William Roberts, Esq. 



HANNAH MORE. 319 



452. Visit to Bolt Court. 

The most amiable and obliging of women, Miss 
Reynolds, ordered the coach to take us to Dr. Johnson's. 
The conversation turned upon a new work of his, just 
going to the press (the Journey to the Hebrides), and 
his old friend Richardson : Mrs. Williams, the blind 
poet, who lives with him, was introduced to us. She is 
engaging in her manners; her conversation lively and 
entertaining. Not finding Johnson in his little parlour 
when we came in, Hannah seated herself in his great 
chair, hoping to catch a little ray of his genius : when 
he heard it he laughed heartily, and told her it was a 
chair in which he never sat. He said it reminded him 
of Boswell and himself when they stopped a night at 
the spot (as they imagined) where the Weird Sisters 
appeared to Macbeth : the idea so worked upon their 
enthusiasm, that it quite deprived them of rest ; how- 
ever, they learned, the next morning, to their mortifl- 
2ation, that they had been deceived, and were quite 
.'n another part of the country.^) 

4:53. " Sir Eldred of the Bower" — " The Bleeding 
Rock." 

Johnson, full of wisdom and piety, was this evening 
very communicative. To enjoy Dr. Johnson perfectly, 
one must have him to one's self, as he seldom cares to 
speak in mixed parties. Our tea was not over till nine , 
we then fell upon " Sir Eldred : " he read both poems 
through, suggested some little alterations in the first, 
and did me the honour to write one whole stanza ( 2 ) ; 
but in the "Rock," h- has not altered a word. Though 
only a tea visit, he stayed with us till twelve. 

(1) [See ante, Vol. IV. p. 119., and Vol. V. p. 881.] 

(2) The stanza beginning, " My scorn has oft, &c." 



320 JOHNSONIAN A. 

454. Garrick and Johnson. 
My petite assemblee came at seven. The dramatis 
personce were Mrs. Boseawen, Mrs. Garrick, and Miss 
Reynolds ; my beaux were Dr. Johnson, Dean Tucker, 
and last, but not least in our love, David Garrick. You 
know that wherever Johnson is, the confinement to the 
tea-table is rather a durable situation. However, my ears 
were open, though my tongue was locked, and they all 
stayed till near eleven. Garrick was the very soul of 
the company, and I never saw Johnson in such perfect 
good-humour. We have often heard that one can never 
properly enjoy the company of these two unless they 
are together. There is great truth in this remark ; for 
after the Dean and Mrs. Boscawen (who were the only 
strangers) were gone, Johnson and Garrick began a 
close encounter, telling old stories, u e'en from their 
boyish days," at Lichfield. We all stood round them 
above an hour, laughing in defiance of every rule of 
Chesterfield. I believe we should not have thought of 
sitting down or of parting, had not an impertinent 
watchman been saucily vociferous. 

455. Dean Tucker. 
I asked Dr. Johnson, what he thought of the Dean of 
Gloucester. His answer was verbatim as follows : " I 
look upon the Dean of Gloucester to be one of the most 
excellent writers of this period. I differ from him in 
opinion, and have expressed that difference in my 
writings ; but I hope what I wrote did not indicate 
what I did not feel, for I felt no acrimony. No per- 
son, however learned, can read his writings without 
improvement. He is sure to find something he did not 
know before." I told him the Dean did not value him- 
self on elegance of style. He said, " he knew nobody 
whose style was more perspicuous, manly, and vigorous, 
or better suited to his subject." I was not a little 
pleased with this tribute to the worthy Dean's merit, 



HANNAH MORE. 321 

from such a judge of merit ; that man, too, professedly 
differing from him in opinion. 

456. u Adventurer." — De Lolme. 
Keeping bad company leads to all other bad things. 
I have got the headache to-day, by raking out so late 
with that gay libertine, Johnson. Do you know — I 
did not — that he wrote a quarter of the " Adven- 
turer?'^ 1 ) I made him tell me all that he wrote in 
the r ' Fugitive Pieces." De Lolme ( 2 ) told me, that 
he thought Johnson's late political pamphlets were the 
best things he had written. 

457. The Puritans. — Richard Baxter. 
Dr. Johnson never opens his mouth but one learns 
something ; one is sure either of hearing a new idea, or 
an old one expressed in an original manner. He scolded 
me heartily, as usual, when I differed from him in 
opinion, and, as usual, laughed when I flattered ( 3 ) him. 
I was very bold in combating some of his darling pre- 
judices : nay, I ventured to defend one or two of the 
Puritans, whom I forced him to allow to be good men, 
and good writers. He said he was not angry with me 
at all for liking Baxter. He liked him himself ; " but 
then," said he, " Baxter was bred up in the establish- 
ment, and would have died in it, if he could have got 
the living of Kidderminster. He was a very good 
man." Dr. Johnson was wrong ; for Baxter was offered 
a bishopric after the Restoration. 

1 ) [For an account of Johnson's share in the " Adventurer," 
see ante, Vol. I. p. 300. J 

(2) [A native of Geneva, and author of " The Constitution 
of England ; " of which the first English edition appeared in 
1775.] 

1 the subject of Miss More's flattery of Johnson, see 
VII. p. 137., and p. 65. of the present volume.] 



(3) [Oni 

nte, Vol. A 



VOL. IX. 



322 JOHNSONIANA. 



458. " Tom Jones," — u Joseph Andrews" 
I never saw Johnson really angry with me but once, 
and his displeasure did him so much honour, that I 
loved hirn the better for it. I alluded, rather flippantly, 
I fear, to some witty passage in " Tom Jones : " he 
replied, " I am shocked to hear you quote from so 
vicious a book. I am sorry to hear you have read it : 
a confession which no modest lady should ever make. I 
scarcely know a more corrupt work." I thanked him for 
his correction ; assured him that I thought full as ill of it 
now, as he did, and had only read it at an age when I 
was more subject to be caught by the wit, than able to 
discern the mischief. Of "Joseph Andrews" I de- 
clared my decided abhorrence. He went so far as to 
refuse to Fielding the great talents which are ascribed 
to him ; and broke out into a noble panegyric on his 
competitor, Richardson; who, he said, was as superior 
to him in talents as in virtue; and whom he pro- 
nounced to be the greatest genius that had shed its lustre 
on this path of literature. 

459. " Too many Irons in the Fire." 

Mrs. Brooke ( ] ) having repeatedly desired Johnson 
to look over her new play of " The Siege of Sinope " 
before it was acted, he always found means to evade it ; 
at last she pressed him so closely that he actually re- 
fused to do it, and told her that she herself, by care- 
fully looking it over, would be able to see if there was 
any thing amiss as well as he could. "But, Sir," said 
she, " 1 have no time, I have already so many irons in 
the fire." " Why then, Madam," said he, quite out of 

(1) [The author of " Julia Mandeville," and "Emily Mon- 
tagu," and also of the favourite comic opera of " Rosina." 
The " Siege of Sinope" was brought out at Covent Garden 
in 1781, but was only performed ten nights.] 



HANNAH MORE. 323 

patience, " the best thing I can advise you to do is, to 
put your tragedy along with your irons." 

460. Lord Lyttelton. — Mrs. Montagu. — Mr.Pepys. 
Think of Johnson's having apartments in Grosvenor 
Square. But he says it is not half so convenient as 
Bolt Court ! He has just finished the Poets : Pope is 
the last. I am sorry he has lost so much credit by 
Lord Lyttelton's : he treats him almost with contempt ; 
makes him out a poor writer, and an envious man; 
speaks well only of his " Conversion of St. Paul," of 
which he says, i( it is sufficient to say it has never been 
answered." Mrs. Montagu and Mr. Pepys, his lord- 
ship's two chief surviving friends, are very angry. ( ] ) 

46l. Gar rich. 
On Wednesday, Johnson came to see us, and made 
us a long visit. On Mrs. Garrick's telling him, she was 
always more at her ease with persons who had suffered 
the same loss with herself, he said that was a comfort 
she could seldom have, considering the superiority of 
her husband's merit, and the cordiality of their union. 
He bore his strong testimony to the liberality of Gar- 
rick. (1781.) 

462. " Pensees de Pascal.' 9 
He reproved me with pretended sharpness for read- 
ing " Les Pensees de Pascal," or any of the Port 
Royal authors ; alleging that, as a good Protestant, I 
ought to abstain from books written by Catholics. I 
was beginning to stand upon my defence, when he took 
me with both hands, and with a tear running down his 
cheeks, " Child," said he, with the most affecting earn- 
estness, w I am heartily glad that you read pious books, 
by whomsoever they may be written." 

(1) [See ante, Vol. VIII. p. 46.] 

Y 2 



324 JOHNSONIA.NA. 

463. Milton. 
On Monday, Johnson was in full song, and I quar- 
relled with him sadly. I accused him of not having 
done justice to the "Allegro" and a Penseroso." He 
spoke disparagingly of both. I praised " Lycidas," 
which he absolutely abused, adding, " If Milton had 
not written the c Paradise Lost/ he would only have 
ranked among the minor poets : he was a Phidias that 
cut a Colossus out of a rock, but could not cut heads 
out of cherry stones. ,, ( 1 ) 

464. Boswell and Gar rick. 
Boswell brought to my mind the whole of a very 
mirthful conversation at dear Mrs. Garrick's ; and my 
being made, by Sir William Forbes, the umpire in a 
trial of skill between Garrick and Boswell, which could 
most nearly imitate Dr. Johnson's manner. I remember 
I gave it for Boswell in familiar conversation, and for 
Garrick in reciting. 

465. The Club. — Garrick's Death. 
Poor Johnson is in a bad state of health. I fear his 
constitution is broken up; I am quite grieved at it. He 
will not leave an abler defender of religion and virtue 
behind him; and the following little touch of tenderness, 
which I heard of him last night from one of the Turk's 
Head Club, endears him to me exceedingly. There 
are always a great many candidates ready, when any 
vacancy happens in the club, and it requires no small 
interest and reputation to get elected ; but, upon Gar- 
rick's death, when numberless applications were made 
to succeed him, Johnson was deaf to them all : he said, 
:e No, there never could be found any successor worthy 
of such a man; and he insisted upon it there should be 

(1) [See ante. Vol. VIII. p. 306.] 



HANNAH MORE. 325 

a yea? s widowhood in the Club, before they thought of 
a new election. ( ] ) 

4i66. Metaphysical Distresses. 
In Dr. Johnson, some contrarieties very harmoniously 
meet : if he has too little charity with the opinions of 
others, and too little patience for their faults, he has the 
greatest tenderness for their persons. He told me, the 
other day, he hated to hear people whine about metaphy- 
sical distresses, when there was so much want and hunger 
in the world. I told him I supposed, then, he never 
wept at any tragedy but Jane Shore, who died for 
want of a loaf. He called me saucy girl, but did not 
deny the inference. (l?82.) 

467. Abstinence and Temperance, 
I dined very pleasantly at the Bishop of Chester's 
(Dr. Porteus). Johnson was there ; and the Bishop 
was very desirous to draw him out, as he wished to 
show him off to some of the company who had never 
seen him. He begged me to sit next him at dinner, 
and to devote myself to making him talk. To this end, 
I consented to talk more than became me ; and our 
stratagem succeeded. You would have enjoyed seeing 
him take me by the hand in the middle of dinner, and 
repeat, with no small enthusiasm, many passages from 
the " Fair Penitent," &c. I urged him to take a 
little wine ; he replied^ " I can't drink a little, child ; 
therefore I never touch it. Abstinence is as easy to 
me, as temperance would be difficult. " He was very 
good-humoured and gay. One of the company hap- 
pened to say a word about poetry; iC Hush, hush ! " 
said he, ei it is dangerous to say a word of poetry before 
her ; it is talking of the art of war before Hannibal.' 

(1) [Garrick died in January, 1779, and no new election took 
place till November, 1780; when Dr. Shipley, Bishop of St. 
Asaph, was chosen a member.] 

Y 3 



326 JOHNSONIANA. 

He continued his jokes, and lamented that I had not 
married Chatterton, that posterity might have seen a 
propagation of poets. 

468. Oxford. — Pembroke College. 
Who do you think is my principal Cicerone at Ox- 
ford ? Only Dr. Johnson ! and we do so gallant it 
ahout ! You cannot imagine with what delight he 
showed me every part of his own college (Pembroke). 
Dr. Adams, the master, had contrived a very pretty piece 
of gallantry. We spent the day and evening at his house. 
After dinner, Johnson begged to conduct me to see the 
college; he would let no one show me it but himself. 
u This was my room ; this Shenstone's." Then, after 
pointing out all the rooms of the poets who had been 
of his college, " In short/' said he, " we were a nest 
of singing birds." — " Here we walked, there we played 
at cricket." He ran over with pleasure the history of the 
juvenile days he passed there. When we came into 
the common hall, we spied a fine large print of Johnson, 
framed and hung up that very morning, with this 
motto, " And is not Johnson ours, himself a host ? '/ 
Under which stared you in the face, " From Miss 
More's c Sensibility.' " This little incident amused us ; — 
but, alas ! Johnson looks very ill indeed — spiritless 
and wan. (June IS. 1782.) 

469. Jesuits and Jansenists. 
Saturday, I went to Mrs. Reynolds's, to meet Sir 
Joshua and Dr. Johnson. Our conversation ran very 
much upon religious opinions, chiefly those of the 
Roman Catholics. He took the part of the Jesuits, 
and I declared myself a Jansenist. He was very angry 
because I quoted Boileau's bon-mot upon the Jesuits, 
that they had lengthened the Creed and shortened the 
Decalogue ; but I continued sturdily to vindicate my old 
friends of the Port Royal. He looked so dreadfully, 



HANNAH xMORE. 327 

that it quite grieved me. He is more mild and com- 
placent than he used to be. His sickness seems to have 
softened his mind, without having at all weakened it. 
I was struck with the mild radiance of this setting sun. 
(1783.) 

470. " The Bas Bleu." 
I went to see Dr. Johnson. He received me with 
the greatest kindness and affection ; and as to the Bas 
Bleu, all the flattery I ever received from every body 
together would not make up the sum. He said, — but I 
seriously insist you do not tell any body, for I am 
ashamed of writing it even to you ; — he said, there 
was no name in poetry that might not be glad to own 
it^ 1 ) You cannot imagine how I stared: all this 
from Johnson, the parsimonious praiser ! I told him I 
was quite delighted at his approbation : he answered 
quite characteristically, (C And so you may ; for I give 
you the opinion of a man who does not rate his judg- 
ment on these things verv low, I can tell you. (April. 
1784.) 

471. Johnsons last Illness, 
Poor dear Johnson ! he is past all hope. I have, 
however, the comfort to hear that his dread of dying is 
in a great measure subsided ; and now he says u the 
bitterness of death is past." He sent the other day for 
Sir Joshua Reynolds ; and after much serious convers- 
ation told him he had three favours to beg of him, and 
he hoped he would not refuse a dying friend, be they 
what they would. Sir Joshua promised. The first 
was, that he would never paint on a Sunday ; the 
second, that he would forgive him thirty pounds that 
he had lent him, as he wanted to leave them to a dis- 
tressed family ; the third was, that he would read the 
Bible whenever he had an opportunity, and that he 

(1) [See ante. p. 123.] 
Y 4 



328 JOHNSONIANA. 

would never omit it on a Sunday. There was no dif- 
ficulty but upon the first point; but at length Sir 
Joshua promised to gratify him in all. How delighted 
should I be to hear the dying discourse of this great and 
good man, especially now that faith has subdued his 
fears ! 

Mr. Pepys wrote me a very kind letter on the death 
of Johnson, thinking I should be impatient to hear 
something relating to his last hours. Dr. Brocklesby, 
his physician, was with him : he said to him a little 
before he died, " Doctor, you are a worthy man, and my 
friend, but I am afraid you are not a Christian ! What 
can I do better for you than offer up, in your presence, 
a prayer to the great God, that you may become a 
Christian in my sense of the word ? " Instantly he fell 
on his knees, and put up a fervent prayer : when he 
got up he caught hold of his hand with great eagerness, 
and cried, " Doctor ! you do not say, Amen ! " The 
doctor looked foolish ; but after a pause, cried, Amen ! 
Johnson said, c: My dear doctor, believe a dying man, 
there is no salvation but in the sacrifice of the Lamb of 
God. Go home, write down my prayer, and every 
word I have said, and bring it me to-morrow." Brock- 
lesby did so. 

A friend desired he would make his will ; and as Hume, 
in his last moments, had made an impious declaration 
of his opinions, he thought it might tend to counteract 
the poison, if Johnson would make a public confession 
of his faith in his will. He said he would, seized the 
pen with great earnestness, and asked, what was the 
usual form of beginning a will ? His friend told him. 
After the usual forms he wrote, " I offer up my soul 
to the great and merciful God ; I offer it full of pol- 
lution, but in full assurance that it will be cleansed in 
the blood of my Redeemer." And for some time he 
wrote on with the same vigour and spirit as if he had 
been in perfect health. When he expressed some of 



HANNAH MORE. 329 

his former dread of dying, Sir John said, " If you, 
Doctor, have these fears, what is to become of others ? " 
iC Oh ! Sir," said he, " I have written piously, it is 
true ; but I have lived too much like other men.'' It 
was a consolation to him, however, in his last hours, 
that he had never written in derogation of religion or 
virtue. He talked of his death and funeral, at times, 
with great composure. On the Monday following, 
December the 13th, he fell into a sound sleep, and con- 
tinued in that state for twelve hours, and then died 
without a groan. 

No action of his life became him like the leaving it. 
His death makes a kind of era in literature : piety and 
goodness will not easily find a more able defender ; and 
it is delightful to see him set, as it were, his dying 
seal to the professions of his life, and to the truth of 
Christianity. 

472. Abbe Raynal. — Sabbath-breakers. 
I now recollect, with melancholy pleasure, two little 
anecdotes of Dr. Johnson, indicating a zeal for religion 
which one cannot but admire, however characteristically 
rough. When the Abbe Raynal was introduced to 
him, upon the Abbe's advancing to shake his hand, the 
Doctor drew back, and put his hands behind him, and 
afterwards replied to the expostulation of a friend — 
" Sir, I will not shake hands with an infidel ! " At 
another time, 1 remember asking him, if he did not 
think the Dean of Derry a very agreeable man, to 
which he made no answer; and on my repeating my 
question, " Child," said he, f( I will not speak any 
thing in favour of a Sabbath- breaker, to please you, nor 
any one else." 



330 JOHNSOHIANA. 



Part XX. 



ANECDOTES OF DR. JOHNSON, 
BY BISHOP HOHNE. (i) 



473. Johnson, and his Writings. 

When a friend told Johnson that he was much 
blamed for having unveiled the weakness of Pope, 
cc Sir/* said he, kC if one man undertake to write the 
life of another, he undertakes to exhibit his true and 
real character ; but this can be done only by a faithful 
and accurate delineation of the particulars which dis- 
criminate that character.'' 

The biographers of this great man seem con- 
scientiously to have followed the rule thus laid down 
by him, and have very fairly communicated all they 
knew, whether to his advantage, or otherwise. Much 
concern, disquietude, and offence have been occasioned 
by this their conduct in the minds of many, who ap- 
prehend that the cause in which he stood forth will 
suffer by the infirmities of the advocate being thus 
exposed to the prying and malignant eye of the world. 

But did these persons then ever suppose, or did they 
imagine that the world ever supposed, Dr. Johnson to 
have been a perfect character ? Alas J no ; we all 
know how that matter stands, if we ever look into our 
own hearts, and duly watch the current of our own 
thoughts, works, words, and actions. Johnson was 
honest, and kept a faithful diary of these, which is 
before the public. Let any man do the same for a 

(1) [See ante, Vol. VIII. p. 427.] 



HORNE. 351 

fortnight, and publish it ; and if, after that, he should 
find himself so disposed, let him " cast a stone/' At 
that hour when the failings of all shall be made mani- 
fest, the attention of each individual will be confined to 
his own. 

It is not merely the name of Johnson that is to 
do service to any cause. It is his genius, his learning, 
his good sense, the strength of his reasonings, and the 
happiness of his illustrations. These all are precisely 
what they were; once good, and always good. His 
arguments in favour of self-denial do not lose their force 
because he fasted, nor those in favour of demotion be- 
cause he said his prayers. Grant his failings were, if 
possible, still greater than these ; will a man refuse to 
be guided by the sound opinion of a counsel, or resist 
the salutary prescription of a physician, because they 
who give them are not without their faults ? A man 
may do so, but he will never be accounted a wise man 
for doing it. 

Johnson, it is said, was superstitious. But who shall 
exactly ascertain to us what superstition is ? The 
Romanist is charged with it by the Church of England 
man ; the churchman by the presbyterian, the presby- 
terian by the independent, all by the deist, and the 
deist by the atheist. With some it is superstitious to 
pray; with others, to receive the sacrament; with others, 
to believe in God. In some minds it springs from the 
most amiable disposition in the world — " a pious awe, 
and fear to have offended;" a wish rather to do too 
much than too little. Such a disposition one loves, and 
wishes always to find in a friend ; and it cannot be dis- 
agreeable in the sight of Him who made us. It argues a 
sensibility of heart, a tenderness of conscience, and the 
fear of God. Let him who finds it not in himself 
beware, lest in flying from superstition he fall into 
irreligion and profaneness. 



332 JOHNSONIANA. 

That persons of eminent talents and attainments in 
literature have been often complained of as dogmatical, 
boisterous, and inattentive to the rules of good breeding, 
is well known. But let us not expect every thing from 
any man. There was no occasion that Johnson should 
teach us to ilance, to make bows or turn compliments ; 
he could teach us better things. To reject wisdom be- 
cause the person of him who communicates it is uncouth, 
and his manners are inelegant, — what is it but to throw 
away a pineapple, and assign for a reason the roughness 
of its coat? Who quarrels with a botanist for not 
being an astronomer ? or with a moralist for not being 
a mathematician ? As it is said, in concerns of a much 
higher nature, " Every man hath his gift — one after 
this manner, and another after that." It is our business 
to profit by all, and to learn of each that in which each 
is best qualified to instruct us. 

That Johnson was generous and charitable, none can 
deny. But he was not always judicious in the selection 
of his objects : distress was a sufficient recommendation; 
and he did not scrutinise into the failings of the dis- 
tressed. May it be always my lot to have sucrr a 
benefactor ! Some are so nice in a scrutiny of this 
kind that they can never find any proper objects of their 
benevolence, and are necessitated to save their money. 
It should doubtless be distributed in the best manner 
we are able to distribute it ; but what would become of 
us all, if He on whose bounty all depend, should be ex- 
treme to mark that which is done amiss ? 

It is hard to judge any man, without a due consider- 
ation of all circumstances. Here were stupendous 
abilities and suitable attainments ; but then here were 
hereditary disorders of body and mind reciprocally 
aggravating each other — a scrofulous frame, and a 
melancholy temper : here was a life, the greater part of 
which passed in making provision for the day, under 



HORNE. 333 

the pressure of poverty and sickness, sorrow and 
anguish. So far to gain the ascendant over these as to 
do what Johnson did, required very great strength of 
mind indeed. Who can say that, in a like situation, 
he should long have possessed or been able to exert it ? 

From the mixture of power and weakness in the 
composition of this wonderful man, the scholar should 
learn humility. It was designed to correct that pride 
which great parts and great learning are apt to produce 
in their possessor. In him it had the desired effect. 
For though consciousness of superiority might some- 
times induce him to carry it high with man (and even 
this was much abated in the latter part of life), his 
devotions have shown to the whole world how humbly 
he walked at all times with his God. 

His example may likewise encourage those of timid 
and gloomy dispositions not to despond, when they 
reflect that the vigour of such an intellect could not 
preserve its nossessor from the depredations of melan- 
choly. They will cease to De surprised and alarmed at 
the degree of their own sufferings : they will resolve to 
bear with patience and resignation the malady to which 
they find a Johnson subject as well as themselves : 
and if they want words in which to ask relief from 
him who alone can give it, the God of mercy and 
Father of all comfort, language affords no finer than 
those in which his prayers are conceived. Child of 
sorrow, whoever thou art, use them ; and be thankful 
that the man existed by whose means thou hast them 
to use. 

His eminence and hi? fame must of course have 
excited envy and malice ; but let envy and malice look 
at his infirmities and his charities, and they will quickly 
melt into pity and love. 

That he should not be conscious of the abilities with 
which Providence had blessed him was impossible. He 



334< JOHNSONIANA. 

felt his own powers ; he felt what he was capable of 
having performed; and he saw how little., comparatively 
speaking, he had performed. Hence his apprehensions 
on the near prospect of the account to be made, viewed 
through the medium of constitutional and morbid 
melancholy, which often excluded from his sight the 
bright beams of divine mercy. May those beams ever 
shine upon us ! But let them not cause us to forget 
that talents have been bestowed of which an account 
must be rendered, and that the fate of the " unprofitable 
servant" may justly beget apprehensions in the stoutest 
mind. The indolent man who is without such appre- 
hensions has never yet considered the subject as he 
ought. For one person who fears death too much, 
there are a thousand who do not fear enough, nor have 
thought in earnest about it. Let us only put in prac- 
tice the duty of self-examination ; let us inquire into 
the success we have experienced in our war against the 
passions, or even against undue indulgence of the 
common appetites — eating, drinking, and sleeping; we 
shall soon perceive how much more easy it is to form 
resolutions than to execute them, and shall no longer 
find occasion, perhaps, to wonder at the weakness 
of Johnson. 

On the whole, in the memoirs of him that have been 
published, there are so many witty sayings and so many 
wise ones, by which the world, if it so please, may be 
at once entertained and improved, that I do not regret 
their publication. In this, as in all other instances, we 
are to adopt the good and reject the evil. The little 
stories of his oddities and his infirmities in common life 
will, after a while, be overlooked and forgotten ; but 
his writings will live for ever, still more and mere 
studied and admired, while Britons shall continue to be 
characterised by a love of elegance and sublimity, of 
good sense and virtue. The sincerity of his repentance, 



HORNE. 335 

the steadfastness of his faith, and the fervour of his 
charity, forbid us to doubt, that his sun set in clouds 
to rise without them : and of this let us always be 
mindful, that every one who is made better by his books 
will add a wreath to his crown. 



JOHNSONIANA. 

Part XXI. 

ANECDOTES OF DR. JOHNSON, 
BY JOHN NORTHCOTE, R. A. (i) 



474. Poverty and Mortification, 
At the time when Sir Joshua Reynolds resided in New- 
port Street, he one afternoon, accompanied by his sister 
Frances, paid a visit to the Miss Cotterells, who lived 
much in the fashionable world. Johnson was also ot 
the party on this tea visit ; and, at that time, being very 
poor, he was, as might be expected, rather shabbily 
apparelled. The maid servant, by accident, attended at 
the door to let them in, but did not know Johnson, 
who was the last of the three that came in ; when the 
servant maid, seeing tbis uncouth and dirty figure of a 
man, and not conceiving that he could be one of the 

(1 ) [From Northcote's " Memoirs of Sir Joshua Reynolds."] 
B 



2 JOHNSONIANA. 

company who came to visit her mistresses, laid hold of 
his coat just as he was going up stairs, and pulled him 
back again, saying, " You fellow ! what is your business 
here ? I suppose you intended to rob the house." This 
most unlucky accident threw poor Johnson into such a 
fit of shame and anger, that he roared out, like a bull, 
" What have I done ? what have I done ? " Nor could 
he rr cover himself for the remainder of the evening 
from this mortifying circumstance. 

475. Richardson. 
Dr. Johnson had a great desire to cultivate the friend- 
ship of Richardson, the author of " Clarissa ;" and, with 
tbis view, paid him frequent visits. These were re- 
ceived very coldly by the latter ; " but," observed the 
Doctor, in speaking of this to a friend, " I was de- 
termined to persist till I had gained my point ; because 
I knew very well that, when I had once overcome his 
reluctance and shyness of humour, our intimacy would 
contribute to the happiness of both." The event veri- 
fied the Doctor's prediction. 

476. Idle Curiosity. 

Dr. Johnson was displeased if he supposed himself 
at any time made the object of idle curiosity. When 
Miss Reynolds once desired him to dine at Sir Joshua's, 
on a day fixed upon by herself, he readily accepted the 
invitation ; yet, having doubts as to the importance of 
her companions, or of her reasons for inviting him, he 
added, at the same time, " but I will not be made a 
show of." 

477. "Clarissa:' 

Johnson introduced Sir Joshua Reynolds and his sister 
to Richardson ; but hinted to them, at the same time, that, 
if they wished to see the latter in good humour, they 
must expatiate on the excellencies of his <( Clarissa.'' 



NORTHCOTE. 5 

478. Introductions and Conclusions, 
I have heard Sir Joshua repeat a speech which the 
Doctor made about the time of his writing the " Idler," 
and in which he gave himself credit in two particulars : 
— e< There are two things/' said he, " which I am 
confident I can do very well : one is, an introduction to 
any literary work, stating what it is to contain, and how 
it should be executed in the most perfect manner ; the 
other is a conclusion, showing, from various causes, why 
the execution has not been equal to what the author 
promised to himself and to the public/' 

479. Tea. 
Johnson's extraordinary, or rather extravagant, fond- 
ness for tea did not fail to excite notice wherever he 
went; and it is related, though not by Boswell, that 
whilst on his Scottish tour, and spending some time at 
Dunvegan, the dowager Lady Macleod having re- 
peatedly helped him, until she had poured out sixteen 
cups, she then asked him, if a small basin would not 
save him trouble and be more agreeable ? — " I wonder, 
Madam," answered he roughly, " why all the ladies 
ask me such questions. It is to save yourselves trouble 
Madam, and not me." The lady was silent, and re 
sumed her task. 

480. <e A completely wicked Man" 
Dr. Johnson being in company with Sir Joshua and 
his sister, Miss Reynolds, and the conversation turning 
on morality, Sir Joshua said, he did not think there 
was in the world any man completely wicked. John- 
son answered, " I do not know what you mean by 
completely wicked." Ci I mean," returned Sir Joshua, 
" a man lost to all sense of shame." Dr. Johnson 
replied, that " to be completely wicked, a man must >>e 
also lost to all sense of conscience." Sir Joshua saia, 
b 2 



* JOHNSONIANA. 

he thought it was exactly the same ; he could see no 
difference. " What ! " said Johnson, " can you see 
no difference ? I am ashamed to hear you, or any 
body, utter such nonsense, when the one relates to men 
only, the other to God ! " Miss Reynolds then observed, 
that when shame was lost, conscience was nearly gone. 
Johnson agreed, that her conclusion was very just. 

481. Richardson on Painting. 
Dr. Johnson knew nothing of the art of painting, 
either in theory or practice ; which is one proof that he 
could not be the author of Sir Joshua's " Discourses : " 
indeed, his imperfect sight was some excuse for his 
total ignorance in that department of study. One day, 
being at dinner at Sir Joshua's, in company with many 
painters, in the course of conversation Richardson's 
u Treatise on Painting" happened to be mentioned: 
" Ah ! " said Johnson, K I remember, when I was at 
college, I by chance found that book on my stairs : I 
took it up with me to my chamber, and read it through, 
and truly I did not think it possible to say so much 
upon the art." Sir Joshua, who could not hear dis- 
tinctly, desired of one of the company to be informed 
what Johnson had said ; and it being repeated to him 
so loud that Johnson heard it, the Doctor seemed hurt, 
and added, (i But I did not wish, Sir, that Sir Joshua 
should have been told what I then said." The latter 
speech of Johnson denotes a delicacy in him, and an 
unwillingness to offend; and it evinces a part of his 
character, which he has not had the credit of having 
ever possessed. 

482. " Venice Preserved J* 
One day, Johnson and Goldsmith meeting at Sir 
Joshua Reynolds's table, the conversation turned on the 
merits of Otway's <c Venice Preserved," which Gold- 
smith highly extolled ; asserting, that of all tragedies 



NORTHCOTE. 5 

it was the one nearest in excellence to Shakspeare : 
when Johnson, in his peremptory manner, contradicted 
him, and pronounced that there were not forty good 
lines to he found in the whole play ; adding, " Pooh ! 
what stuff are these lines ! 

" What feminine tales hast thou been listening to, 
Of unair'd sheets, catarrh, and toothach, got 
By thin-soled shoes ? " 

" True I" replied Goldsmith ; " to he sure, that is very 
like Shakspeare." 

483. Criticisms on Goldsmith. 
Soon after Goldsmith's deaths some people dining 
with Sir Joshua were commenting rather freely on 
some part of his works, which, in their opinion, neither 
discovered talent nor originality. To this Dr. Johnson 
listened, in his usual growling manner, for some time ; 
when, at length, his patience being exhausted, he rose 
with great dignity, looked them full in the face, and 
exclaimed, (( If nobody were suffered to abuse poor 
Goldy but those who could write as well, he would 
have few censors." 

484. Portrait of Johnson reading. 
In 1775* Sir Joshua painted that portrait of his 
friend Johnson, which represents him as reading and 
near-sighted. This was very displeasing to the Doctor, 
who, when he saw it, reproved Sir Joshua for painting 
him in that manner and attitude ; saying, " It is not 
friendly to hand down to posterity the imperfections of 
sny man." But, on the contrary, Sir Joshua esteemed 
it as a circumstance in nature to be remarked, as charac- 
terising the person represented, and therefore as giving 
additional value to the portrait. 

485. Johnson s Pride. 
Of Johnson's pride, I have heard Sir Joshua himself 
observe, that if a ly man drew him into a state of obli- 
b 3 



6 JOHNSONIANA. 

gation without his own consent, that man was the first 
he would affront, by way of clearing off the account. 

486. Trip to Plymouth. — Clouted Cream and Cider. 

Reynolds's trip to Plymouth, accompanied by Dr. 
Johnson, took place in 1762 : when, during a visit to a 
neighbouring gentleman, Johnson's irregularity of con- 
duct produced considerable alarm in the mind of their 
host ; who, in order to gratify his guests, had placed 
before them every delicacy which the house afforded. 
On this occasion the Doctor, who seldom showed much 
discretion in his feeding, devoured so large a quantity 
of new honey and of clouted cream, which is peculiar 
to Devonshire, besides drinking large potations of new 
cider, that the entertainer found himself much em- 
barrassed between his anxious regard for the Doctor's 
health, and his fear of breaking through the rules of 
politeness, by giving him a hint on the subject. The 
strength of Johnson's constitution, however, saved him 
from any unpleasant consequences which might have 
been expected. 

487. Farmer on Shakspeare. 
Dr. Farmer, of Cambridge, had written a most excel- 
lent and convincing pamphlet, to prove that Shakspeare 
knew little or nothing of the ancients but by trans- 
lations. Being in company with Dr. Johnson, he re- 
ceived from him the following compliment upon the 
work : " Dr. Farmer, you have done that which never 
was done before ; that is, you have completely finished 
a controversy beyond all further doubt." " I thank 
you," answered Dr. Farmer, " for your flattering 
opinion of my work, but still think there are some 
critics who will adhere to their old opinions, — certain 
persons that I could name." "Ah!" said Johnson, 
u that may be true ; for the limbs will quiver and 
move after the soul is gone." 



NORTHCOTE. i 

488. Johnson and Peter Pindar. 
Dr. Walcot, in a letter addressed to me ; says : — 
fr Happening to be in company with Dr. Johnson,, and 
observing to him, that his portrait by Reynolds was not 
sufficiently dignified — prepared with a flat contradiction, 
he replied, in a kind of bull- dog growl, c No, Sir ! the 
pencil of Reynolds never wanted dignity nor the graces/ " 

489. " Peter Paul Rubens." 
James MacArdell, the mezzotinto engraver, having 
taken a very good print from the portrait of Rubens, 
came with it one morning to Sir Joshua Reynolds, to 
inquire if he could inform him particularly of the many 
titles to which Rubens had a right, in order to inscribe 
them properly under his print; saying, he believed 
that Rubens had been knighted by the kings of France, 
Spain, and England ; was secretary of state in Flanders, 
and to the privy seal in Spain ; and had been em- 
ployed in a ministerial capacity from the court of 
Madrid to the court of London, to negotiate a treaty of 
peace between the two crowns ; and that he was also a 
magistrate of Antwerp, &c. Dr. Johnson, happening 
to be in the room with Sir Joshua at the time, and 
understanding MacArdelTs inquiry, interfered rather 
abruptly, saying, " Pooh ! pooh ! put his name alone 
under the print, ' Peter Paul Rubens :' that is full suf- 
ficient, and more than all the rest/' This advice of 
the Doctor was accordingly followed. 

490. Compliments. 
At the time that Miss Linley was in the highest 
esteem as a public singer, Dr. Johnson came in the 
evening to drink tea with Miss Reynolds; and when he 
entered the room, she said to him, " See, Dr. Johnson, 
what a preference I give to your company ; for I had 
an offer of a place in a box at the Oratorio, to hear Miss 
b 4 



8 J0HNS0N1ANA. 

Linley ; but I would ratner sit with you than hear 
Miss Linley sing." iC And I, Madam/' replied John- 
son, iC would rather sit with you than sit upon a 
throne." The Doctor would not be surpassed even in a 
trifling compliment 

491. Learned Ladies. 
Several ladies being in company with Dr. Johnson, 
it was remarked by one of them, that a learned woman 
was by no means a rare character in the present age ; 
when Johnson replied, " I have known a great many 
ladies who knew Latin, but very few who knew En- 
glish." A lady observed, that women surpassed men 
in epistolary correspondence. Johnson said, " I do 
not know that." " At least," said the lady, " they 
are most pleasing when they are in conversation." 
" No, Madam," returned Johnson, <: I think they are 
most pleasing when they hold their tongues." 

492. Saying good Things. 
A friend of Dr. Johnson's, in conversation with him, 
*vas lamenting the disagreeable situation in which those 
persons stood, who were eminent for their witticisms, as 
they were perpetually expected to be saying good 
things — that it was a heavy tax on them. " It is, 
indeed," said Johnson, " a very heavy tax on them ; a 
tax which no man can pay who does not steal." 

493. Burke. — Sir Joshua Reynolds. 
Speaking of how much Sir Joshua owed to the 
writings and conversation of Johnson, Mr. Burke said, 
that " nothing showed more the greatness of Sir Joshua's 
parts, than his taking advantage of both, and making 
some application of them to his profession, when John- 
son neither understood, nor desired to understand, any 
thing of painting, and had no distinct idea of its no- 
menclature, even in those parts which had got most 
into use in common life " 



ANNA SEWARD. 



Part XXII. 



ANECDOTES OF DR. JOHNSON, 

BY ANNA SEWARD. (') 



494. Johnsons " Beauties.*' 
Love is the great softener of savage dispositions. 
Johnson had always a metaphysic passion for one 
princess or other : first, the rustic Lucy Porter, before 
he married her nauseous mother ; next, the handsome, 
but haughty, Molly Aston ; next, the sublimated, me- 
thodistic, Hill Boothby, who read her bible in Hebrew ; 
and, lastly, the more charming Mrs. Thrale, with the 
beauty of the first, the learning of the second, and with 
more worth than a bushel of such sinners and such saints. 
It is ridiculously diverting to see the old elephant for- 
Siking his nature before these princesses — 

" To make them mirth, use all his might, and writhe, 
His mighty form disporting." 

This last and long-enduring passion for Mrs. 
Thrale was, however, composed equally, perhaps, of 
cupboard love, Platonic love, and vanity tickled and 
gratified, from morn to night, by incessant homage. The 
two first ingredients are certainly oddly heterogeneous ; 
but Johnson, in religion and politics, in love and in 
hatred, was composed of such opposite and contradictory 
materials, as never before met in the human mind. 

(1) [From " Letters of Anna Seward, written between the 
years 1784 and 1807."] 



10 JOHNSOXIAKA. 

This is the reason why folk are never weary of talking, 
reading, and writing ahout a man — 

" So various, that he seem'd to be 
Not one, but all mankind's epitome." 

4*$5. Johnson s Courtship. 
I have often heard my mother say she perfectly 
remembered Johnson's wife. He has recorded of her 
that beauty which existed only in his imagination. She 
had a very red face, and very indifferent features ; and 
her manners in advanced life — for her children were 
all grown up when Johnson first saw her — had an 
unbecoming excess of girlish levity, and disgusting af- 
fectation. The rustic prettiness and artless manners 
of her daughter, the present Mrs. Lucy Porter, had 
won Johnson's youthful heart, when she was upon a 
visit at my grandfather's in Johnson's school-days. Dis- 
gusted by his unsightly form, she had a personal aversion 
to him. Business taking Johnson to Birmingham, on the 
death of his own father, and calling upon his coy mis- 
tress there, he found her father dying. He passed all 
his leisure hours at Mr. Porter's, attending his sick-bed, 
and, in a few months after his death, asked Mrs. John- 
son's consent to marry the old widow. After expressing 
her surprise at a request so extraordinary — " No, 
Sam, my willing consent you will never have to so 
preposterous a match. You are not twenty-five, and 
she is turned of fifty. If she had any prudence, this 
request had never been made to me. Where are your 
means of subsistence ? Porter has died poor, in con- 
sequence of his wife's expensive habits. You have 
great talents, but, as yet, have turned them into no 
profitable channel." <c Mother, I have not deceived 
Mrs. Porter : I have told her the worst of me ; that I 
am of mean extraction, that I have no money, and 
that I have had an uncle hanged. She replied, that she 



ANNA SEWARD. 11 

ralued no one more or less for his descent ; that she 
had no more money than myself; and that, though 
she had not had a relation hanged, she had fifty who 
deserved hanging." And thus became accomplished 
this very cuiious amour. ( J ) 

496. Miss Elizabeth Aston, 
The following is the conversation that passed between 
Dr. Johnson and myself in company, on the subject of 
Miss Elizabeth Aston ( 2 ), of Stowe-hill, with whom he 
always passed so much time when he was in Lichfield, 
and for whom he professed so great a friendship : — 
Seward. ** I have often heard my mother say, Doctor, 
that Mrs. Elizabeth Aston was, in her youth, a very 
beautiful woman ; and that, with all the consciousness 
and spiteful spleen of a very bad temper, she had great 
powers of pleasing; that she was lively, and insinu- 
ating. I knew her not till the vivacity of her youth 
had long been extinguished ; and I confess I looked 
in vain for the traces of former ability. I wish to 

(1) This account was given to Mr. Boswell; who, as Miss 
Seward could not have known it of her own knowledge, asked 
the lady for her authority. Miss Seward, in reply, quoted Mrs. 
Cobb, an old friend of Johnson's, who resided at Lichfield. To 
her, then, Boswell addressed himself; and, to his equal satis- 
faction and surprise, was answered that Mrs. Cobb had not only 
never told such a story, but that she had not even ever heard of 
it. Notwithstanding this denial, Miss Seward persisted in her 
story to the last. The report as to the hanging was probably 
derived from a coarse passage in the Rev. Donald M'Nicol's 
Remarks on Dr. Johnson's Journey to the Hebrides: — " But, 
whatever the Doctor may insinuate about the present scarcity of 
trees in Scotland, we are much deceived by fame if a very near 
ancestor of his, who was a native of that country, did not find 
to his cost, that a tree was not quite such a rarity in his days. " 
That some Scotchman, of the name of Johnston, may have been 
hanged in the seventeenth century, is very likely ; but there 
seems no reason whatsoever to believe that any of Dr. Johnson's 
family were natives of Scotland. — C. 

(2) [See ante, Vol. I. p. 85. She died in 1785.1 



12 JOHNSONIANA. 

have your opinion of what she was — you, who knevi 
her so well in her hest days." Johnson. " My dear, 
when thy mother told thee Aston was handsome, thy 
mother told thee truth : she was very handsome. When 
thy mother told thee that Aston loved to abuse her 
neighbours, she told thee truth ; but when thy mother 
told thee that Aston had any marked ability in that 
same abusive business, that wit gave it zest, or imagin- 
ation colour, thy mother did not tell thee truth. No, 
no, Madam, Aston's understanding was not of any 
strength, either native or acquired." Seward. " But, 
Sir, I have heard you say, that her sister's husband, 
Mr. Walmesley, was a man of bright parts, and ex- 
tensive knowledge ; that he was also a man of strong 
passions, and though benevolent in a thousand instances, 
yet irascible in as many. It is well known, that Mr. 
Walmesley was considerably governed by this lady. 
Cculd it be, that, without some marked intellectual 
powers, she could obtain absolute dominion over such a 
man ? " Johnson. " Madam, I have said, and truly, 
that Walmesley had bright and extensive powers of 
mind; that they had been cultivated by familiarity 
with the best authors, and by connections with the 
learned and polite. It is a fact, that Aston obtained 
nearly absolute dominion over his will ; it is no less a 
fact, that his disposition was irritable and violent : but 
Walmesley was a man ; and there is no man who 
can resist the repeated attacks of a furious woman. 
Walmesley had no alternative but to submit, or turn 
her out of doors." Q) 

497. Molly Aston. 
Mr. Gilbert Walmesley, my father's predecessor in 
this house, was Johnson's Mecaenas, and the Molly 

(1 ) [Mr. Boswell declined to insert this account in his Life of 
Johnson. He had, no doubt, seen much reason to question its 
ac -uiacy.] 



ANNA SEWARD. IS 

Aston ( J ), whom he mentions with such passionate 
attachment in his letters to Mrs. Thrale, was his wife's 
sister, — a daughter of Sir Thomas Aston, a wit, a 
beauty, and a toast. Johnson was always fancying him- 
self in love with some princess or other. It was when 
he was a school-boy, under my grandfather, that the 
reputation of his talents and rapid progress in the 
classics induced the noble-minded Walmesley to en- 
dure, at his elegant table, the low-born squalid youth 
— here that he suffered him and Garrick to u imp their 
eagle wings," a delighted spectator and auditor of their 
efforts. It was here that Miss Molly Aston was fre- 
quently a visiter in the family of her brother-in-law, 
and probably amused herself with the uncouth ador- 
ations of the learned, though dirty stripling. Lucy 
Porter, whose visit to Lichfield had been but for a 
few weeks, was then gone back to her parents at 
Birmingham, and the brighter Molly Aston became the 
Laura of our Petrarch. 

498. Mrs. Cobb. (?) 
Poor Moll Cobb, as Dr. Johnson used to call her, is 
gone to her long home. Johnson spoke with uniform 
contempt both of the head and heart of this personage. 
" How should Moll Cobb be a wit }" would he exclaim, 
in a room full of company. " Cobb has read nothing, 
Cobb knows nothing ; and where nothing has been put 
into the brain, nothing can come of it, to any purpose of 
rational entertainment." Somebody replied, — " Then 
why is Dr. Johnson so often her visiter ? " " O ! I 
love Cobb — I love Moll Cobb for her impudence." 
The despot was right in his premises, but his conclusion 
was erroneous. Little as had been put into Mrs. 
Cobb's brain, much of shrewd, biting, and humorous 

(1) [See ante, Vol. I. p. 85. J 
'2) [See ante, Vol. VII. p. 298.] 



14 JOHNSONIANA. 

satire was native in the soil, and has often amused very 
superior minds to her own. 

499- Lucy Porter. 
After a gradual decay of a few months, we have lost 
dear Lucy Porter ( ! ), the earliest object of Dr. Johnson's 
love. In youth, her fair, clean complexion, bloom, and 
rustic prettiness, pleased the men. More than once she 
might have married advantageously ; but as to the 
enamoured affections, 

" High Taurus' snow, fann'd by the eastern wind, 
Was not more cold." 

Spite of the accustomed petulance of her temper, and 
odd perverseness, since she had no malevolence, I 
regret her as a friendly creature, of intrinsic worth, 
with whom, from childhood, I had been intimate. She 
was one of those few beings who, from a sturdy sin- 
gularity of temper, and some prominent good qualities 
of head and heart, was enabled, even in her days of 
scanty maintenance, to make society glad to receive and 
pet the grown spoiled child. Affluence was not hers 
till it came to her in her fortieth year, by the death of 
her eldest brother. From the age of twenty till that 
period, she had boarded with Dr. Johnson's mother, 
who still kept that bookseller's shop by which her hus- 
band had supplied the scanty means of subsistence. 
Meantime, Lucy Porter kept the best company in our 
little city, but would make no engagement on market 
days, lest Granny, as she called Mrs. Johnson, should 
catch cold by serving in the shop. By these good 
traits in her character, were the most respectable in- 
habitants of Lichfield induced to bear, with kind 
smiles, her mulish obstinacy and perverse contradictions. 

(1) [Miss Porter survived Dr. Johnson just thirteen months. 
She died at Lichfield, in her seventy-first year, January 13. 1786.] 



ANNA SEWARD. lb 

Johnson himself set the example, and extended to her 
that compliant indulgence which he showed not to any 
other person. I have heard her scold him like a school- 
boy^ for soiling her floor with his shoes ; for she was 
clean as a Dutch- woman in her house, and exactly neat 
in her person. Dress, too, she loved in her odd way ; 
hut we will not assert that the Graces were her hand- 
maids. Friendly, cordial, and cheerful to those she 
loved, she was more esteemed, more amusing, and more 
regretted, than many a polished character, over whose 
smooth, but insipid surface, the attention of those who 
have mind passes listless and uninterested. 

500. Dinner at Dilly's. — Jane Harry. 
The following are the minutes of that curious con- 
versation ( ] ) which passed at Mr. Dilly's, on the 15th 
of April, 1778, in a literary party, formed by Dr. John- 
son, Mr. Boswell, Dr. Mayo, and others, whom Mrs. 
Knowles and myself had been invited to meet, and in 
which Dr. Johnson and that lady disputed so earnestly. 
It commenced with Mrs. Knowles saying : — " I am 
to ask thy indulgence, Doctor, towards a gentle female 
to whom thou usedst to be kind, and who is uneasy in 
the loss of that kindness. Jenny Harry weeps at the 
consciousness that thou wilt not speak to her." John- 
son. " Madam, I hate the odious wench, and desire 
you will not talk to me about her." Knowles. " Yet, 
what is her crime, Doctor ? " Johnson. " Apostacy, 
Madam * apostacy from the community in which she 
was educated/' Knowles. " Surely the quitting one 
community for another cannot be a crime, if it is done 
from motives of conscience. Hadst thou been educated 
in the Romish church, I must suppose thou wouldst 
have abjured its errors, and that there would have been 
merit in the abjuration." Johnson. " Madam, if I 

p) [See ante. Vol. VII. p. 142. and 144. n.l 



16 JOHNSON r ANA. 

had been educated in the Roman Catholic faith, I be- 
lieve I should have questioned my right to quit the 
religion of my fathers ; therefore, well may I hate the 
arrogance of a young wench, who sets herself up for a 
judge on theological points, and deserts the religion in 
whose bosom she was nurtured." Knowles. " She 
has not done so ; the name and the faith of Christians 
are not denied to the sectaries." Johnson. " If the 
name is not, the common sense is." Knowles. Ci I 
will not dispute this point with thee, Doctor, at least at 
present; it would carry us too far. Suppose it granted, 
that, in the mind of a young girl, the weaker arguments 
appeared the strongest, her want of better judgment 
should excite thy pity, not thy resentment." Johnson. 
<c Madam, it has my anger and my contempt, and 
always will have them." Knowles. " Consider, Doc- 
tor, she must be sincere. Consider what a noble for- 
tune she has sacrificed." Johnson. " Madam, madam, 
I have never taught myself to consider that the asso- 
ciation of folly can extenuate guilt." Knowles. " Ah ! 
Doctor, we cannot rationally suppose that the Deity 
will not pardon a defect in judgment (supposing it 
should prove one) in that breast where the consideration 
of serving Him, according to its idea, in spirit and truth, 
has been a preferable inducement to that of worldly 
interest." Johnson. " Madam, I pretend not to set 
bounds to the mercy of the Deity ; but I hate the 
wench, and shall ever hate her. I hate all impudence ; 
but the impudence of a chit's apostacy I nauseate/* 
Knowles. " Jenny is a very gentle creature. She trem- 
bles to have offended her parent, though far removed from 
his presence ; she grieves to have offended her guardian * 
and she is sorry to have offended Dr. Johnson, whom 
she loved, admired, and honoured." Johnson. " Why. 
then, Madam, did she not consult the man whom she 
pretends to have loved, admired, and honoured, upon 
her new-fangled scruples ? If she had looked up to 



ANNA SEWARD. 17 

that man with any degree of the respect she professes, 
she would have supposed his ability to judge of fit and 
right, at least equal to that of a raw wench just out of 
her primer/' Knowles. " Ah ! Doctor, remember it 
was not from amongst the witty and the learned that 
Christ selected his disciples, and constituted the teachers 
of his precepts. Jenny thinks Dr. Johnson great and 
good ; but she also thinks the Gospel demands and en- 
joins a simpler form of worship than that of the Esta- 
blished Church ; and that it is not in wit and eloquence 
to supersede the force of what appears to her a plain 
and regular system, which cancels all typical and mys- 
terious ceremonies, as fruitless and even idolatrous ; and 
asks only obedience to its injunctions, and the inge- 
nuous homage of a devout heart/' Johnson. " The 
homage of a fool's head, Madam, you should say, if you 
will pester me about the ridiculous wench/' Knowles. 
(i If thou choosest to suppose her ridiculous, thou canst 
not deny that she has been religious, sincere, disin- 
terested. Canst thou believe that the gate of Heaven 
will be shut to the tender and pious mind, whose first 
consideration has been that of apprehended duty ? " 
Johnson. " Pho, pho, Madam, who says it will ? " 
Knowles. " Then if Heaven shuts not its gate, shall 
man shut his heart ? If the Deity accept the homage 
of such as sincerely serve him under every form of 
worship, Dr. Johnson and this humble girl will, it is 
to be hoped, meet in a blessed eternity, whither human 
animosity must not be carried." Johnson. (i Madam, 
I am not fond of meeting fools anywhere; they are 
detestable company, and while it is in my power to 
avoid conversing with them, I certainly shall exert that 
power ; and so you may tell the odious wench, whom 
you have persuaded to think herself a saint, and of 
whom you will, I suppose, make a preacher; but I 
shall take care she does not preach to me." — The loud 
and angry tone in which he thundered out these replies 

VOL. X. C 



'8 JOHNSONIAN A- 

to his calm and able antagonist, frightened us all, ex- 
cept Mrs. Knowles, who gently, not sarcastically, smiled 
at his injustice. Mr. Boswell whispered me, " I never 
saw this mighty lion so chafed before/' (*) 

501. Boswell's " Tour.' 

The general style of Boswell's Tour is somewhat too 
careless, and its egotism is ridiculous ; but surely to the 
cold-hearted and fastidious reader only, will it seem 
ridiculous. The slipshod style is richly compensated 
by the palpable fidelity of the interesting anecdotes ; 
the egotism, by that good-humoured ingenuousness with 
which it is given, and by its unsuspecting confidence 
in the candour of the reader. The incidents, and cha- 
racteristic traits of this valuable work, grapple our at- 
tention perforce. How strongly our imagination is 
impressed when the massive Being is presented to it, 
stalking, like a Greenland bear, over the barren He- 
brides, roaming round the black rocks and lonely coasts, 
in a small boat, on rough seas, and saluting Flora Mac 
donald in the Isle of Sky ! 

The spirit of Boswell's Tour with Johnson runs 
clear to the last syllable. Those who are not interested 
in its anecdotes can have little intellectual curiosity, and 
no imagination. Those who are not entertained with 
the perpetual triumph of sarcastic wit over fair, inge- 
nuous argument, must be sturdier moralists than ever 
Johnson himself affected to have been ; and those who 
do not love the biographer, as they read, whatever im- 
perfections they may find in the massive Being whom 

(1) [" Boswell's Life of Johnson is out. It contains the 
memorable conversation at Dilly's, but without that part of it 
of which I made minutes. This omission is surely unjustifiable, 
as I gave Mr. Boswell my memoir, and I am sure it contains 
nothing but what was said by Mrs. Knowles and the despot." 

Seward, May 19. 1791 rFor Boswell's reasons for leaving out 

the lady's communication, see ante, Vol. VII. p. 144. ; and for 
Mrs. Knowles' s version of this conversation, see post. Part xxxii.] 



ANNA SEWARD. 19 

he so strongly characterises, can have no hearts. It is 
for the line of Bruce to be proud of the historian of 
Corsica : it is for the house of Auchinleck to boast of 
him who, with the most fervent personal attachment to 
an illustrious literary character, has yet been sufficiently 
faithful to the just claims of the public upon biographic 
fidelity, to represent him, not as his weak or prejudiced 
idolaters might wish to behold him, — not in the light 
in which they desire to contemplate Johnson who pro- 
nounce his writings to be an obscure jargon of pompous 
pedantry, and his imputed virtues a superstitious farrago 
of pharisaic ostentation, — but as he was : the most won- 
derful composition of great and absurd, of misanthropy 
and benevolence, of luminous intellect and prejudiced 
darkness, that was ever produced in the human breast. 

502. Mr. and Mrs. Piozzi. 

I am become acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Piozzi. 
Her conversation is that bright wine of the intellects 
which has no lees. Dr. Johnson told me truth when 
he said, she had more colloquial wit than most of our 
literary women : it is indeed a fountain of perpetual 
flow. But he did not tell me truth when he asserted 
that Piozzi was an ugly dog, without particular skill in 
his profession. Mr. Piozzi is a handsome man, in 
middle life, with gentle, pleasing, and unaffected man- 
ners, and with very eminent skill in his profession. 
Though he has not a powerful or fine-toned voice, 
he sings with transcending grace and expression. I am 
charmed with his perfect expression on his instrument. 
Surely the finest sensibilities must vibrate through his 
frame, since they breathe so sweetly through his song ! 
(Oct. 1787.) 

503. Reading Manuscripts. 

When last in Lichfield, Johnson told me that a 
lady in London once sent him a poem which she had 
c 2 



20 JOHNSON1ANA. 

written, and afterwards desired to know his opinion of 
it. " ' Madam. 1 have not cut the leaves; I did not even 
peep between them/ I met her again in company, and 
she again asked me after the trash : I made no reply, 
and began talking to another person. The next time 
we met, she asked me if I had yet read her poem ; I 
answered, ' No, Madam, nor ever intend it/" Shocked 
at the unfeeling rudeness he thus recorded of himself, 
I replied, that I was surprised any person should ob- 
trude their writings upon his attention ; adding, that if 
I could write as well as Milton or Gray, I should think 
the best fate to be desired for my compositions was ex- 
emption from his notice. I expected a sharp sarcasm in 
return, but he only rolled his large head in silence. 

Johnson told me once, <( he would hang a dog that 
read the c Lycidas ' of Milton twice." ft What, then/' 
replied I, iC must become of me, who can say it by 
heart ; and who often repeat it to myself with a delight, 
which grows by what it feeds upon ? ** tc Die," returned 
the growler, " in a surfeit of bad taste/' Thus it was 
that the wit and awless impoliteness of the stupendous 
creature bore down, by storm, every barrier which rea- 
son attempted to rear against his injustice! 

504. Last Visit to Lichfield. 
Oct. 29. 1784. — I have lately been in the almost 
daily habit of contemplating a very melancholy spectacle. 
The great Johnson is here, labouring under the pa- 
roxysms of a disease which must speedily be fatal. He 
shrinks from the consciousness with the extremest 
horror. It is by his repeatedly expressed desire that 
I visit him often : yet I am sure he neither does, nor 
ever did, feel much regard for me ; but he would fain 
escape, for a time, in any society, from the terrible 
idea of his approaching dissolution. I never would be 
awed, by his sarcasm or his frowns, into acquiescence 
with his general injustice to the merits of other writers, 



ANNA SEWARD. 21 

with his national or party aversions ; but I feel the 
truest compassion for his present sufferings, and fer- 
vently wish I had power to relieve them. A few days 
since I was to drink tea with him, by his request, at 
Mrs. Porter's. When I went into the room, he was in 
deep but agitated slumber, in an arm-chair. Opening 
the door with that caution due to the sick, he did not 
awaken at my entrance. I stood by him several mi- 
nutes, mournfully contemplating the temporary suspen- 
sion of those vast intellectual powers which must soon, 
as to this world, be eternally quenched. 

Upon the servant entering to announce the arrival of 
a gentleman of the university, introduced by Mr. White, 
he awoke with convulsive starts ; — but, rising with 
more alacrity than could have been expected, he said, 
" Come, my dear lady, let you and I attend these gen- 
tlemen in the study." He received them with more 
than usual complacence ; but whimsically chose to get 
astride upon his chair- seat, with his face to its back, 
keeping a trotting motion as if on horseback ; but, in 
this odd position, he poured forth streams of eloquence, 
illumined by frequent flashes of wit and humour, with- 
out any tincture of malignity. His memory is con- 
siderably impaired, but his eloquence rolls on in its 
customary majestic torrent, when he speaks at all. My 
heart aches to see him labour for his breath, which he 
draws with great effort. It is not improbable that this 
literary comet may set where it rose, and Lichfield re- 
ceive his pale and stern remains. (*) 

(i) [" Dr. Johnson seems, in some respects, to have shared 
the fate of a proverbial prophet in his own country ; for neither 
Miss Seward nor Dr. Darwin were partial to the great moralist." 
— Sib. Walteb, Scott, Miscel. Prose Works, vol. iv. p. 205.] 



c 3 



22 JOHNSONIANA, 



Part XXIII. 
ANECDOTES AND REMARKS, 

FROM THE MEMOIRS AND WORKS OF DR. PARR. (*) 



505. Recommendation of Parr, 
When Dr. Parr determined to leave Stanmore, and to 
become a candidate for the school at Colchester, he 
applied to Dr. Johnson for letters of recommendation, 
which were kindly granted, as will be seen by the 
following extract of a letter, dated Feb. 5. 1777^ from 
Bennet Langton to Mr. Parr : — " Yesterday morning 
Mr. Paradise and I went to Bolt Court ; and it is, 
I assure you, but doing justice to Dr. Johnson's ex- 
pressions, on our application, to say, that nothing could 
be more friendly than they were. He said he knew of 
few, if of any, that were so well entitled to success 
as yourself in an application for presiding over a semi- 
nary of education ; and expressed the opinion of your 
possessing all the kinds of learning requisite for that 
purpose, in very high terms of praise." 

506. Parr's Projected Life of Johnson. 

For many years I spent a month's holidays in 

London, and never failed to call upon Johnson. I was 

not only admitted, but welcomed. 1 conversed with 

him upon numberless subjects of learning, politics, and 

(1 ) [Nos. 505 — 516. of these anecdotes are selected from the 
Life and Works of Parr, in eight vols. 8vo. 1828 ; edited by Dr. 
John Johnstone. ] 



DR. PARR. 23 

common life. I traversed the whole compass of his 
understanding ; and, by the acknowledgment of Burke 
and Reynolds, I distinctly understood the peculiar and 
transcendent properties of his mighty and virtuous 
mind. I intended to write his life ; I laid by sixty or 
seventy books for the purpose of writing it in such 
a manner as would do no discredit to myself. I 
intended to spread my thoughts over two volumes 
quarto ; and if I had filled three pages, the rest would 
have followed. Often have I lamented my ill fortune 
in not building this monument to the fame of Johnson, 
and let me not be accused of arrogance when I add, my 
own ! ( ] ) 

507. " Rasselas" 
Dr. Young said of Johnson's " Rasselas," that " it 
was a mass of sense." 

508. Truth. 
The following passage, from Johnson's character of 
Zachary Mudge, unites the true spirit of Christianity with 
the soundest wisdom : — " By a solicitous examination of 
objections, and judicious comparison of opposite argu- 
ments, he attained what inquiry never gives but to 
industry and perspicuity, — a firm and unshaken settle- 
ment of conviction. But his firmness was without 
asperity ; for, knowing with how much difficulty truth 
was sometimes found, he did not wonder that many 
missed it." ( 2 ) The truth of the concluding sentence 
will be felt by every man of deep reflection ; and well 
does it become those who are not in the habit of reflect- 
ing deeply, to weigh its moral and religious importance 

(1) [Dr, Parr has recorded the same sentiment in the note 
prefixed to the list of the thirty-four works which he had set 
apart to consult in his projected Life of Dr. Johnson : — " He 
will ever have to lament that, amidst his cares, his sorrows, and 
his anxiety, he did not write the life of his learned and revered 
friend."— Bib. Parr, p. 716.] 

(2) [See ante, Vol. VIII. p. 51. J 

c 4 



24 JOHNSONIANA. 

in mitigating their prejudices, and in restraining their 
invectives, upon certain difficult and momentous sub- 
jects. Glad should I be if this opinion of Johnson's 
were, in Johnson's words, written, like the motto of 
Capaneus, " in golden letters," and hung up, not only 
in every dissenting academy, but in every hall of every 
college in those two noble seminaries which, as Mil- 
ton says of Athens and Sparta, I revere as " the eyes " 
of this kingdom. 

509. Whig and Tory. 
To almost every part of Johnson's distinction of a 
Whig and Tory I assent ; there is no part which does 
not contain judicious remarks and useful information : — 
* f A wise Tory and a wise Whig," he says, " will, I be- 
lieve, agree. Their principles are the same, though their 
modes of thinking are different. A high Tory makes 
government unintelligible ; it is lost in the clouds. A 
violent Whig makes it impracticable: he is for allowing 
so much liberty to every man, that there is not power 
enough to govern any man. The prejudice of the 
Tory is for establishment ; the prejudice of the Whig 
is for innovation. A Tory does not wish to give more 
real power to government ; but that government should 
have more reverence. Then they differ as to the 
church. The Tory is not for giving more legal power 
to the clergy ^ but wishes they should have a considerable 
influence founded on the opinion of mankind : the 
Whig is for limiting and watching them with a narrow 
jealousy." 

510. Unconscious Similitudes. 
An instance of unconscious similitude between an 
ancient and a modern writer occurs at the moment to 
my memory, and as I have not seen it noticed in any 
book, you will excuse me for producing it : — " Gray," 
says Johnson, " in his odes, has a kind of strutting 
dignity, and is tall by walking on tiptoe." We meet 



DR. PARR. 25 

with a similar thought in Quintilian : — c * Prima est 
eloquentiae virtus, perspicuitas : et quo quisque ingenio 
minus valet, hoc se magis attollere et dilatare conatur ; 
ut statura breves in digitos eriguntur, et plura infirmi 
rninantur." 

I will add another instance. Johnson said of Lord 
Chesterfield, e( He is a wit among lords, and a lord 
among wits/' But he remembered not that Pope had 
written — 

" A wit with dunces, and a dunce with wits." 
Neither of them, perhaps, was conscious that Quintilian 
had long ago said — " Qui stultis eruditi videri volunt, 
eruditis stulti videntur." 

511. Johnson described by Gregory Nazianzen. 
The following lines I long ago read and marked 
in the " Anecdota Graeca," by Muratorius, as descriptive 
of Johnson's benevolence, of his ready powers in con- 
versation, and of the instruction it conveyed to his 
hearers : — 

MvOoi, Kai in)y)) iracriv apvo/xetn), 
"AadfMari irdura \iires Trvfxdry. 

These lines were written by Gregory Nazianzen upon 
Amphilochus ; and however un tractable they may be in 
the hands of an epitaph writer, they might be managed 
with success by such a biographer as Johnson deserves, 
and perhaps has hitherto not had. 

512. English Universities. 
There are men to whom such an opponent as Dr. 
Johnson, upon such a topic as the honour of Cambridge 
and Oxford, might have been an object both of " terror 
and esteem/' Now, in a paper in the Idler, Johnson 
has employed quite as good sense, in quite as good 
English, for the credit of our universities, as Gibbon 
has since misemployed for their discredit. " If litera- 



26 JOHNSONIANA. 

tare," says h^ :< * is not the essential requisite of the 
modern academic, I am yet persuaded that Cambridge 
and Oxford, however degenerated, surpass the fashion- 
able academies of our metropolis, and the gymnasia of 
foreign countries. The number of learned persons in 
these celebrated seats is still considerable; and more 
conveniences and opportunities for study still subsist in 
them, than in any other place. There is, at least, one 
very powerful incentive to learning — I mean the 
genius of the place. This is a sort of inspiring deity, 
which every youth of quick sensibility and ingenious 
disposition creates to himself, by reflecting that he is 
placed under those venerable walls where a Hooker and 
a Hammond, a Bacon and a Newton, once pursued the 
same course of science, and from whence they soared to 
the most elevated heights of literary fame. This is 
that incitement which Tully, according to his own 
testimony, experienced at Athens, when he contemplated 
the portico where Socrates sat, and the laurel-grove 
where Plato disputed. But, there are other circum- 
stances, and of the highest importance, which make 
our colleges superior to all places of education. These 
institutions, though somewhat fallen from their primary 
simplicity, are such as influence, in a particular manner, 
the moral conduct of their youths ; and, in this general 
depravity of manners and laxity of principles, pure 
religion is no where more strongly inculcated. English 
universities render their students virtuous, at least by 
excluding all opportunities of vice ; and, by teaching 
them the principles of the church of England, confirm 
them in those of true Christianity." I had reached 
nearly the end of my observations on Mr. Gibbon, 
before the sentiments of Dr. Johnson occurred to my 
mind. I am too discreet, too honest, and perhaps too 
proud, to be intentionally guilty of plagiarism from 
any writer whatsoever. But, I am too ingenuous to 



DR. PARR. 27 

dissemble the sincere and exquisite satisfaction that 
I feel, upon finding that my opinions, and even my 
own words, on the encouragement of learning, the pre- 
servation of morals, and the influence of religion, 
correspond so nearly with the opinions and the words 
of such an observer as Dr. Johnson, upon such a ques- 
tion as the merits of the English universities. 

513. Literary Merit. 

By the testimony of such a man as Johnson, imper- 
tinence must be abashed, and malignity itself must be 
softened. Of literary merit, as we all know, he was a 
sagacious, but a most severe judge. Such was his dis- 
cernment, that he pierced into the most secret springs 
of human actions ; and such was his integrity, that he 
always weighed the moral characters of his fellow crea. 
tures in the " balance of the sanctuary." He was too 
courageous to propitiate a rival, and too proud to truckle 
to a superior. 

514. Johnson s Funeral. 
In a letter from Charles Burney, the younger, to 
Dr. Parr, dated Dec. 21. 1784, he says, — u Yesterday 
I followed our ever to be lamented friend, Dr. Johnson, 
to his last mansion : f Non omnis moriar — multaque 
pars mei vitabit Libitinam* — should be engraven on his 
stone. He died with the same piety with which he 
lived ; and bestowed much pains during his last illness 
in endeavouring to convince some of his friends, who 
were in doubt, about the truth of the Christian religion. 
He has left behind him a collection of small Latin com- 
positions in verse. They are principally translations of 
collects and Greek epigrams. He was followed to the 
Abbey by a large troop of friends. Ten mourning 
coaches were ordered by the executors for those invited. 



28 JOHNSONIANA. 

Besides these, eight of his friends or admirers clubbed for 
two more carriages, in one of which I had a seat. But 
the executor, Sir John Hawkins, did not manage things 
well, for there was no anthem or choir service per- 
formed — no lesson — but merely what is read over 
every old woman that is buried by the parish. Surely, 
surely, my dear Sir, this was wrong, very wrong. Dr. 
Taylor read the service — but so-so. (*) He lies nearly 
under Shakspeare's monument, with Garrick at his right 
hand, just opposite the monument erected not long ago 
for Goldsmith by him and some of his friends." 

515. Parr on Johnsons Churchmanship. 
u It is dangerous to be of no church," said Dr. 
Johnson — who believed and revered his Bible, and 
who saw through all the proud and shallow pretences 
of that which calls itself liberality, and of that which is 
not genuine philosophy. 

5 16. Parr on Johnsons Death. 
He was a writer, in whom religion and learning have 
lost one of their brightest ornaments, and whom it is 
not an act of adulation or presumption to represent as 
summoned to that reward, which the noblest talents, 
exercised uniformly for the most useful purposes, can- 
not fail to attain. 

517. Greek Accents. ( 2 ) 
Dr. Johnson, in his conversation with Dr. Parr, re- 
peatedly and earnestly avowed his opinion, that accents 

(1) [Dr. Parr, in a letter to Dr. Charles Burney, written in 
Nov. 1789, says, " Did you go to Sir Joshua Reynolds's funeral ? 
I hope he had a complete service, not mutilated and dimidiated, 
as it was for poor Johnson at the Abbey, which is a great re- 
proach to the lazy cattle who loll in the stalls there*"] 

(2) [Communicated by Dr. John Johnstone.] 



DR. PARR. 29 

ought not to be omitted by any editor of Greek 
authors, or any modern writers of Greek verse, or 
Greek prose. 

518. Bishop Pearce. ( J ) 
That Dr. Parr obtained, at an early period, a place 
in the good opinion of Dr. Johnson, appears from the 
circumstance, that to his powerful recommendation Dr. 
Parr was chiefly indebted for his appointment to the 
mastership of the Norwich Grammar School. Indeed, he 
has often been heard to speak of their friendly inter- 
views, even before that time ; of which one instance 
occurs to me. This was in 1777., when Bishop 
Pearce's " Commentary, with Notes, on the Four 
Gospels " was published, to which the well-known 
" Dedication," written by Dr. Johnson, was prefixed. 
Calling soon afterwards upon him, Dr. Parr mentioned 
that he had been reading, with great delight, his dedi- 
cation to the king. " My dedication ! " exclaimed Dr. 
Johnson, " how do you know it is mine ? " " For two 
reasons," replied Dr. Parr: "the first, because it is 
worthy of you ; the second, because you only could 
write it." 

519« Johnsons Monument. 
When it was determined to erect a monument of 
Johnson in St. Paul's Cathedral, the task of composing 
the inscription was assigned, by the public wish and 
voice, to Dr. Parr ; who, however, on its first proposal, 
shrank with awe from the arduous undertaking. In 
writing to a friend, he thus expresses himself : — " I 
must leave this mighty task to some hardier and some 
abler hand. The variety and the splendour of John- 
son's attainments, the peculiarity of his character, his 
private virtues, and his literary publications, fill me with 
confusion and dismay, when I reflect on the confined 

(1) [Nos. 518. and 519. from "Field's Memoirs of Dr, 
Parr." ; 



30 JOHNSONIANA, 

and difficult species of composition, in which alone they 
can be expressed on his monument." 

On another occasion, speaking on the same subject — 
" I once intended to write Johnson's Life ; and I had 
read through three shelves of books to prepare myself 
for it. It would have contained a view of the literature 
of Europe : and/' — making an apology for the proud 
consciousness which he felt of his own ability — " if I 
had written it," continued he, " it would have been the 
third most learned work that has ever yet appeared." 
To explain himself, he afterwards added, " The most 
learned work ever written, I consider Bentley c On the 
Epistles of Phalaris ;' the next, Salmasius ' On the 
Hellenistic Language/ " On a third occasion, describing 
the nature of his intended work, and alluding to Bos well, 
he said, " Mine should have been, not the drippings of 
his lips, but the history of his mind." 

520. Imitations of Juvenal. Q) 
Dr. Parr spoke with unbounded favour of Johnson's 
imitations of Juvenal. The lines in the third satire, — • 



• " Tanti tibi non sit opaci, 



Omnis arena Tagi, quodque in mare volvitur aurum, 
Ut somno careas," — 

he was fond of quoting, with Johnson's amplification of 
the sentiment : — 

" But thou, should tempting villany present 
All Marlborough hoarded, or all Villiers spent, 
Turn from the glittering bribe thy scornful eye, 
Nor sell for gold, what gold will never buy — 
The peaceful slumber, self-approving day, 
Unsullied fame, and conscience ever gay." 

(1) [This and the two next articles are from " Recollections 
of Dr. Parr, by a Pupil" (the late Charles Marsh). — New 
Monthly Mag, vol, xvii.] 



DR. PARR. 31 

521. Preface to Shakspeare. 
The Preface to Shakspeare Dr. Parr considered 
Johnson's most eloquent prose composition ; and he 
delighted in quoting that fine passage,, where Johnson, 
at the close of his attack upon the doctrine of the 
Unities, says, " But when I think of the great authorities 
that are ranged on the other side, I am almost tempted 
to retire from the contest; as iEneas withdrew from the 
siege of Troy, when he saw Neptune shaking the 
walls, and Juno heading the besiegers/' 

522. Music. 
Talking once with Dr. Parr on the subject of dedica- 
tions, in a friend's library, he desired me to take down 
the first volume of Burney's History of Music, and 
to read to him the dedication of that work to the queen. 
C( There," said he, " there is the true refinement of 
compliment, without adulation. In the short compass 
of a few lines are comprised no small degree of the 
force, and nearly all the graces and the harmonies, of 
the English language. But Burney did not write it : 
Johnson wrote it; and on this, as on other occasions, 
showed himself an accomplished courtier. Jemmy 
Boswell ought to have known that Johnson wrote it. 
-Z" had it from good authority ; besides, it is Johnson's 
internally. How truly Johnsonian is the following 
passage : — " The science of musical sounds has been 
depreciated as appealing only to the ear, and affording 
nothing more than a fugitive and temporary delight ; 
but it may justly be considered as the art which unites 
corporal with intellectual pleasure, by a species of enjoy- 
ment which gratifies sense, without weakening reason ; 
and which, therefore, the great may cultivate without 
debasement, and the good may enjoy without deprav- 
ation." 



32 JOHNSONIANA. 

523. Adventurer, No. 87. ( ] ) 

The following observations were dictated to me by 
Dr. Parr, as he was one evening calmly smoking his 
pipe in my study. I was telling him, that two of our 
common friends had decided from internal evidence, that 
No. 87- in that work was not written by Warton, as 
the signature Z. indicated, but by Johnson. " Reach 
your c Adventurer' from the shelves," said the Doctor, 
*' and read the paper to me." When I had done so he 
said, " Now sit down, and write on the blank leaf of the 
volume what I shall dictate to you ; and remember never 
to part with that book, nor suffer the leaf, which you 
have written, to be torn out, but preserve it as a me- 
morial of your cordial and sincere friend, when I shall 
be numbered with the dead." What the Doctor dic- 
tated is as follows : — " May 19. 1808. Number 87. 
of the c Adventurer* was written by Johnson, not by 
Dr. Warton. It has internal evidence sufficient to show 
who was, and who was not, the writer. Instead of T. the 
signature of Johnson, Z., the signature of Warton, was 
by an error of the press inserted in the earlier editions, 
and has since continued. Boswell, when collecting 
Johnson's papers in the e Adventurer,' looked only to 
the signature T.; and not finding it to No. 87.., he did 
not assign that paper to Johnson. Warton was more 
likely to keep a good account than Johnson. Dr. Wooll r 
in his Life of Warton, does not include No. 87. among 
the papers written by Warton. Dr. Parr, who gave me 
this information in May 1808, was quite satisfied with 
the internal evidence as supplied by the style and the 
matter. BoswelTs silence proves nothing except his 
want of vigilance, or his want of acuteness ; but WoolFs 
silence is decisive, more especially as Boswell has left 
the paper open to a claim from Dr. Warton, who hap- 

(1) [From "Parriana," by E. H. Barker, Esq., vol. I. p. 472.] 



DR. PARR. 33 

pily had too much honour to appropriate the composi- 
tion of another man." 

524. First Interview with Johnson. ( ] ) 
We talked of Johnson. Dr. Parr said, he had once 
begun to write a life of him ; and if he had continued 
it, it would have been the best thing he had ever written. 
" I should have related not only every thing important 
about Johnson, but many things about the men who 
flourished at the same time ; " adding, with an expres- 
sion of sly humour, " taking care, at the same time, to 
display my own learning." He said, Dr. Johnson was 
an admirable scholar, and that he would have had a 
high reputation for more learning, if his reputation for 
intellect and eloquence had not overshadowed it ; the 
classical scholar was forgotten in the great original con- 
tributor to the literature of his country. One of the 
company reminded him of his first interview with Dr. 
Johnson, as related by Mr. Langton in BoswelTs ac- 
count of his life. After the interview was over, Dr. 
Johnson said, " Parr is a fair man ; I do not know 
when I have had an occasion of such free controversy ; 
it is remarkable how much of a man's life may pass 
without meeting with any instance of this kind of open 
discussion." ( 2 ) To this remark Dr. Parr replied with 
great vehemence, " I remember the interview well : / 
gave him no quarter. The subject of our dispute was 
the liberty of the press. Dr. Johnson was very great : 
whilst he was arguing, I observed that he stamped. 
Upon this I stamped. Dr. Johnson said, f Why did you 
stamp, Dr. Parr V I replied, ' Sir, because you stamped ; 
and I was resolved not to give you the advantage even 
of a stamp in the argument.'" It is impossible to do 

(1 ) [This and the next article are from a paper entitled " Two 
Days with Dr. Parr," in Blackwood's Mag. vol. xvii. o. 599.] 

(2) [See ants, Vol. VII. p. 362.^ 
VOL. X. D 



34 JOHNSONIANA. 

justice to his description of this scene ; the vehemence, 
the characteristic pomposity, with which it was accom- 
panied, may easily be imagined by those who knew 
him, but cannot be adequately represented to those who 
did not. 

525. Johnsons " Prayers and Meditations. 11 (*) 
Permit me (says Dr. Parr), as a friend to the cause of 
virtue and religion, to recommend most earnestly to read- 
ers of every class the serious perusal of Dr. Johnson's 
" Prayers and Meditations/' lately published. They 
mark, by the most unequivocal and vivid proofs, the 
sincerity of his faith, the fervour of his devotion, and 
the warmth of his benevolence : they are equally in- 
telligible, and equally instructive, to the learned and the 
unlearned ; they will animate the piety of the Christian, 
and put to shame the coldness and obduracy of the 
proud philosopher ; they show at once the weakness 
and the strength of Johnson's mind ; but that weakness 
melts every attentive reader into compassion, and that 
strength impresses him with veneration. He that pos- 
sesses both integrity of principle, and tenderness of 
feeling — he that admires virtue, and reveres religion — 
he that glows with the love of mankind, and reposes his 
trust in God — will himself become a wiser and a better 
man from contemplating those thoughts which passed in 
the mind of one of the wisest and the best of men, 
when he communed with his own heart, and poured 
forth his supplications before the throne of Heaven for 
mercy and for grace. 

(1) [From the " Gentleman's Magazine," vol. lv. p. 675.] 



BARETTI. 35 



Part XXIV. 



ANECDOTES AND REMARKS, 
BY JOSEPH BARETTI. (i) 



526* Acquaintance with Johnson. ( 2 ) 
My connection with Dr. Johnson, though quite close 
and quite familiar, during a great number of years, was 
nevertheless, like every other intimacy, subject at inter- 
vals to the vicissitudes of coincidence and discrepance 
in opinion ; not that I ever dreamt of any equality be- 
tween our powers of pronouncing judgment in ambi- 
guous and questionable cases, but in mere consequence of 
that untoward cast of mind which often makes this and 
that and t'other object appear to Mr. Joseph of such 
a form, of such a size, of such and such a quality, 
when Mr. Samuel conceives them all to be greatly dif- 
ferent, if not the absolute reverse. Not unfrequently, 
therefore, were our debates on divers topics, now of 
more, now of less, importance. To them, and to a 
multitude of disquisitions I heard from him on innu- 
merable matters, I am indebted for the best part of that 
little knowledge I have; and if there is any kind of 
rectitude and fidelity in my ideas, I will ever remember, 
with gratitude as well as pride, that I owe more of it to 
him and to his books, than to any other man I ever 
knew, or any other books I ever studied. However, in 
spite of my obsequiousness to his great superiority, and 
my ready submission to most of his dictates, never 

(1) [See ante, Vol. II. p. 55.] 

(2) [From Baretti's " Strictures on Signora Piozzi's public- 
ation of Dr. Johnsorfs L etters. 1 '] 

D 2 



36 JOHNSONIANA. 

could I implicitly adopt some few of his principal no- 
tions and leading opinions, though ever so ardently de- 
sirous of conforming all mine to those of a man, whose 
innate and acquired faculties, as far as my judgment 
reaches, were never equalled by any of his most far- 
famed contemporaries. One of the points on which 
my friend and I most widely differed, and most fre- 
quently disputed, especially during the last seven or 
eight years of his life, was certainly that of his Mis- 
tress's excellence, or no excellence ; and every body 
knows that his Mistress, as he emphatically called her, 
was my pretty Hester Lynch, alias Mrs. Thrale, alias 
La Piozzi. 

527. Johnson and the Thrales. 
The Signora Piozzi says, that " while she remained at 
Streatham or at London, her carriage and servants were 
not entirely at her command/' but at Johnson's. But, 
in the name of goodness, had she not told us, in her 
6 c Anecdotes," that " the Doctor wanted as little as the 
gods, and required less attendance, sick or well, than 
she ever saw any human creature ? " It is a fact, not to 
be denied, that, when at Streatham or in the Borough, 
Johnson wanted nothing else from her servants, than to 
be shaved once in three days, as he was almost beard- 
less ; and as for her carriage, never once during the 
whole time of their acquaintance did he borrow, much 
less command it, for any purpose of his own. Either 
she in hers, or Mr. Thrale in his, took him from town 
to Streatham without the least inconvenience to either ; 
and he was brought back generally on Saturdays by Mr. 
Thra;e, who repaired every day to the Borough about 
his affairs presently after breakfast. When Johnson 
went to them or from them in town, he constantly made 
-•'."*> of an hackney, and would have been greatly offended 
had Madam ever offered to order the horses out of the 
stable on his sole account. True it is, that Johnson 



BARETTI. 37 

was not lavish of his money when he began to have any 
to save, but he scorned to be considered as oversaving: 
it: and of this we have a pretty lively proof, p. 38. 
vol. ii. of his Letters, where he rebukes Mr. Thrale 
for wishing to have him brought to Brightelmstone by 
Dr. Burney, that he might not be at the expense of a 
postchaise or of the stage-coach : " Burney is to bring 
me ? " says Johnson. ec Pray why so ? Is it not as fit 
that I should bring Burney ? My Master is in his < old 
lunes/ and so am I." This asperity of language proves 
how ticklish Johnson was on the most distant suppo- 
sition that he grudged expense when necessary. 

It is not true, that Dr. Johnson (C w r ould often not rise 
till twelve, and oblige her to make breakfast for him 
till the bell rang for dinner." It is a constant fact, 
that, during Johnson's acquaintance with the Thrale 
family, he got the habit of rising as early as other 
folks, nor ever made Mr. Thrale stay a single moment 
for his breakfast, knowing that his business called him 
away from the breakfast table about ten o'clock every 
morning, except Sundays ; nor had Mr. Thrale quitted 
the table a moment but the Doctor swallowed his last 
cup, and Madam was at liberty to go about her hens 
and turkeys, leaving him to chat with me or any body 
else that happened to be there, or go up in his room, 
which was more usual, from whence he did not stir till 
dinner-time. 

Johnson's austere reprimands and unrestrained up- 
braidings, when face to face with Madam, always de- 
lighted Mr. Thrale, and were approved even by her 
children : and I remember to this purpose a piece of 
mortification she once underwent by a trait de naiveU 
of poor little Harry, some months before he died. 
" Harry," said his father to him, on entering the room, 
" are you listening to what the Doctor and mamma are 
about?" "Yes, papa," answered the boy. cc And," 
quoth Mr. Thrale, " what are they saying ?" " They 
d 3 



38 JOHNSON IAN A. 

are disputing/' replied Harry ; "but mamma has just 
such a chance against Dr. Johnson, as Presto would have 
if he were to fight Dash." Dash was a large dog, and 
Presto but a little one. The laugh this innocent ob- 
servation produced was so very loud and hearty, that 
Madam, unable to stand it, quitted the room in such a 
mood as was still more laughable than the boy's perti- 
nent remark, though she muttered "it was very imper- 
tinent." However, a short turn in the pleasure-ground 
soon restored her to her usual elasticity, made her come 
back to give us tea, and the puny powers of Presto were 
mentioned no more. 

528. Barettts Rupture with Dr. Johnson. ( ] ) 
My story may be a lesson to eager mortals to mis- 
trust the duration of any worldly enjoyment; as even the 
best cemented friendship, which I consider as the most 
precious of earthly blessings, is but a precarious one, 
and subject, like all the rest, to be blasted away in an 
unexpected moment, by the capriciousness of chance, 
and by some one of those trifling weaknesses, unac- 
countably engrafted even in the noblest minds that ever 
showed to what a pitch human nature may be elevated. 
About thirteen months before Dr. Johnson went the 
way of all flesh, my visits to him grew to be much less 
frequent than they used to be, on account of my gout 
and other infirmities, which permitted not my going 
very often from Edward Street, Cavendish Square, to 
Bolt Court, Fleet Street, as it had been the case in my 
better days ; yet, once or twice every month, I never 
failed to go to him, and he was always glad to see " the 
oldest friend he had in the world ; " which, since Gar- 
rick's death, was the appellation he honoured me with, 
and constantly requested me to see him as often as I 
could. One day — and, alas ! it was the last time I saw 

(1) [From " Tolondson : Speeches to John Bowie, about his 
edition of Don Quixote," 1786.] 



BARETTT. 39 

him — I called on him, not without some anxiety, as I 
had heard that he had been very ill ; but found him so 
well as to be in very high spirits ; of which he soon made 
me aware, because, the conversation happening to turn 
about Otaheite, he recollected that Omiah had often 
conquered me at chess ; a subject on which, whenever 
chance brought it about, he never failed to rally me 
most unmercifully, and made himself mighty merry 
with. This time, more than he had ever done before, he 
pushed his banter on at such a rate, that at last he 
chafed me, and made me so angry, that, not being able 
to put a stop to it, I snatched up my hat and stick, and 
quitted him in a most choleric mood. The skilful 
translator of Tasso (Mr. Hoole), who was a witness to 
that ridiculous scene, may tell whether the Doctor's 
obstreperous merriment deserved approbation or blame ; 
but, such was Johnson, that, whatever was the matter 
in hand, if he was in the humour, he would carry it 
as far as he could ; nor was he much in the habit, even 
with much higher folks than myself, to refrain from 
sallies which, not seldom, would carry him further than 
he intended. Vexed at his having given me cause to 
be angry, and at my own anger too, I was not in haste 
to see him again ; and he heard, from more than one, 
that my resentment continued. Finding, at last, or 
supposing, that I might not call on him any more, he 
requested a respectable friend to tell me that he would 
be glad to see me as soon as possible ; but this message 
was delivered me while making ready to go into Sussex, 
where I staid a month longer ; and it was on my leav- 
ing Sussex, that the newspapers apprised me my friend 
was no more, and England had lost possibly the greatest 
of her literary ornaments. ( ] ) 

(1) [The interesting memoir of Baretti, in the Gentleman's 

Magazine for May, 1789, drawn up by Dr. Vincent, concludes 

thus : — " It was not distress that compelled Baretti to take 

refuge in the hospitality of Mr. Thrale, as has been suggested. 

D 4 



40 JOHNSONIANA. 



Part XXV. 



ANECDOTES AND REMARKS, 
BY BISHOP PERCY, (i) 



529. Stourbridge School. 
Sir John Hawkins is not correct in saying that 
Johnson, in early life,, had not been accustomed to the 
conversation of gentlemen. His genius was so dis- 
tinguished, that, although little more than a schoolboy, 
he was admitted to the best company, both at Lichfield 
and Stourbridge ; and, in the latter neighbourhood, had 
met even with George, afterwards Lord Lyttelton ; with 
whom, having some colloquial disputes, he is supposed 
to have conceived that prejudice which so improperly 
influenced him in the Life of that worthy nobleman. 
But this could scarcely have happened when he was a 
boy of fifteen ; and, therefore, it is probable he occa- 
sionally visited Stourbridge, during his residence at 
Birmingham, before he removed to London. 



He had lately received five hundred pounds for his Spanish 
" Travels," but was induced by Dr. Johnson (contrary to his 
own determination, of never becoming a teacher of languages) 
to undertake the instruction of Mr. Thrale's daughters in Italian. 
He was either nine or eleven years almost entirely in that 
family, though he still rented a lodging in town ; during which 
period he expended his own five hundred pounds, and received 
nothing in return for his instruction, but the participation of a 
good table, and a hundred and fifty pounds by way of presents. 
Instead of his " Strictures on Signora Piozzi/' had he told this 
plain unvarnished tale, he would have convicted that lady of 
avarice and ingratitude, without incurring the danger of a reply, 
or exposing his memory to be insulted by her advocates."] 

(1) [From communications made by Bishop Percy, to Dr. 
Robert Anderson.] 



BISHOP PERCY. 41 

530. Personal Peculiarities. 

Johnson's countenance, when in a good humour, was 
not disagreeable. His face clear , his complexion good, 
and his features not ill formed, many ladies have thought 
they might not have been unattractive when he was 
young. Much misrepresentation has prevailed on this 
subject, among such as did not personally know him. 

That he had some whimsical peculiarities of the 
nature described by Mr. Bos well, is certainly true ; but 
there is no reason to believe they proceeded from any 
superstitious motives, wherein religion was concerned : 
they are rather to be ascribed to the <( mental distem- 
pers" to which Boswell has so repeatedly alluded. 

Johnson was so extremely short-sighted, that he had 
no conception of rural beauties ; and, therefore, it is 
not to be wondered, that he should prefer the convers- 
ation of the metropolis to the silent groves and views of 
Hampstead and Greenwich ; which, however delightful, 
he could not see. In his Tour through the Highlands 
of Scotland^ he has somewhere observed, that one moun- 
tain was like another; so utterly unconscious was he of 
the wonderful variety of sublime and beautiful scenes 
those mountains exhibited. I was once present when the 
case of a gentleman was mentioned, who^ having, with 
great taste and skill, formed the lawns and plantations 
about his house into most beautiful landscapes, to com- 
plete one part of the scenery, was obliged to apply for 
leave to a neighbour with w T hom he was not upon cor- 
dial terms ; when Johnson made the following remark, 
which at once shows what ideas he had of landscape 
improvement, and how happily he applied the most 
common incidents to moral instruction. " See how 
inordinate desires enslave a man ! No desire can be 
more innocent than to have a pretty garden, yet, in- 
dulged to excess, it has made this poor man submit to 
beg a favour of his enemv." 



42 JOHNSONIANA. 

531.. Johnsons Manner of Composing. 
Johnson's manner of composing has not been rightly 
understood. He was so extremely short-sighted, from 
the defect in his eyes, that writing was inconvenient to 
him ; for, whenever he wrote, he was obliged to hold 
the paper close to his face. He, therefore, never com- 
posed what we call a foul draft on paper of any thing 
he published, but used to revolve the subject in his 
mind, and turn and form every period, till he had 
brought the whole to the highest correctness and the 
most perfect arrangement. Then his uncommonly re- 
tentive memory enabled him to deliver a whole essay, 
properly finished, whenever it was called for. I have 
often heard him humming and forming periods, in low 
whispers to himself, when shallow observers thought he 
was muttering prayers, &c. But Johnson is well known 
to have represented his own practice, in the following 
passage in his Life of Pope : " Of composition there 
are different methods. Some employ at once memory 
and invention ; and, with little intermediate use of the 
pen, form and polish large masses by continued me- 
ditation, and write their productions only when, in their 
own opinion, they have completed them/ 

532. Dislike of Swift. 
The extraordinary prejudice and dislike of Swift, 
manifested on all occasions by Johnson, whose political 
opinions coincided exactly with his, has been difficult 
to account for ; and is therefore attributed to his failing 
in getting a degree, which Swift might not choose to 
solicit, for a reason given below. The real cause is 
believed to be as follows : The Rev. Dr. Madden ( ] ), 
who distinguished himself so laudably by giving pre- 
miums to the young students of Dublin College, for 

(1) [See ante, Vol. II. p. 8. and 73.] 



BISHOP PERCY. 43 

which he had raised a fund, by applying for contribu- 
tions to the nobility and gentry of Ireland, had solicited 
the same from Swift, when he was sinking into that 
morbid idiocy which only terminated with his life, 
and was saving every shilling to found his hospital for 
lunatics ; but his application was refused with so little 
delicacy, as left in Dr. Madden a rooted dislike to Swift's 
character, which he communicated to Johnson, whose 
friendship he gained on the following occasion : Dr. 
Madden wished to address some person of high rank, 
in prose or verse ; and, desirous of having his compo- 
sition examined and corrected by some writer of superior 
talents, had been recommended to Johnson, who was 
at that time in extreme indigence ; and having finished 
his task, would probably have thought himself well re- 
warded with a guinea or two, when, to his great sur- 
prise, Dr. Madden generously slipped ten guineas into 
his hand. This made such an impression on Johnson, 
as led him to adopt every opinion of Dr. Madden, and 
to resent, as warmly as himself, Swift's rough refusal 
of the contribution ; after which the latter could not 
decently request any favour from the University of 
Dublin. 

533. The Dictionary. 

The account of the manner in which Johnson com- 
piled his Dictionary, as given by Mr. Boswell ( J ), is 
confused and erroneous, and, a moment's reflection will 
convince every person of judgment, could not be correct; 
for, to write down an alphabetical arrangement of all 
the words in the English language, and then hunt 
through the whole compass of English literature for all 
their different significations, would have taken the whole 
life of any individual ; but Johnson, who, among other 
peculiarities of his character, excelled most men in con- 

(1) [See ante, Vol. I. p. 217.] 



14 JOHNSONIANA. 

triving the best means to accomplish any end, devised 
the following mode for completing his Dictionary, as 
he himself expressly described to the writer of this ac- 
count. He began his task by devoting his first care to 
a diligent perusal of all such English writers as were 
most correct in their language, and under every sentence 
which he meant to quote he drew a line, and noted in 
the margin the first letter of the word under which it 
was to occur. He then delivered these books to his 
clerks, who transcribed each sentence on a separate slip 
of paper, and arranged the same under the word referred 
to. By these means he collected the several words and 
their different significations ; and when the whole ar- 
rangement was alphabetically formed, he gave the defi- 
nitions of their meanings, and collected their etymologies 
from Skinner, Junius, and other writers on the subject. 
In completing his alphabetical arrangement, he, no 
doubt, would recur to former dictionaries, to see if any 
words had escaped him ; but this, which Mr. Boswell 
makes the first step in the business, was in reality the 
last ; and it was doubtless to this happy arrangement 
that Johnson effected in a few years, what employed the 
foreign academies nearly half a century. 

534. Miss Williams. (*) 
During the summer of 1764, Johnson paid a visit to 
me, at my vicarage-house in Easton-Mauduit, near Wel- 
lingborough, in Northamptonshire, and spent parts of 
the months of June, July, and August w T ith me, ac- 
companied by his friend Miss Williams, whom Mrs. 
Percy found a very agreeable companion. As poor 
Miss Williams, whose history is so connected with that 
of Johnson, has not had common justice done her by 
his biographers, it may be proper to mention, that, so 
far from being a constant source of disquiet and vex- 
ation to him, although she had been totally blind for the 

(1) [See ante, Vol. I. p. 274.] 



BISHOP PERCY. 45 

last thirty years of her life, her mind was so well cul- 
tivated, and her conversation so agreeable, that she very- 
much enlivened and diverted his solitary hours ; and, 
though there may have happened some slight disagree- 
ments between her and Mrs. Desmoulins, which, at the 
moment, disquieted him, the friendship of Miss Wil- 
liams contributed very much to his comfort and hap- 
piness. For, having been the intimate friend of his 
wife, who harl invited her to his house, she continued 
to reside with him, and in her he had always a con- 
versable companion ; who, whether at his dinners or at 
his tea-table, entertained his friends with her sensible 
conversation. Being extremely clean and neat in her 
person and habits, she never gave the least disgust by 
her manner of eating ; and when she made tea for 
Johnson and his friends, conducted it with so much 
delicacy, by gently touching the outside of the cup, to 
feel, by the heat, the tea as it ascended within, that it 
was rather matter of admiration than of dislike to every 
attentive observer. 

535. Truth. 
Johnson was fond of disputation, and willing to see 
what could be said on each side of the question, when 
a subject was argued. At all other times, no man had 
a more scrupulous regard for truth ; from which, I 
verily believe, he would not have deviated to save his 
life. 

536. Robert Levett. 
Mr. Boswell describes Levett as a man of a strange, 
grotesque appearance, stiff and formal in his manner.^) 
This is misrepresented. He was a modest, reserved 
man; humble and unaffected; ready to execute any 
commission for Johnson ; and grateful for his patronage. 

(1) [See ante, Vol. I. p. 290.] 



46 J0HNS0N1ANA. 

537. Mr. Thrale. 
Of Mr. Thrale, Johnson has given a true character 
in a Latin epitaph, inscribed on his monument in 
Streatham church. This most amiable and worthy 
gentleman certainly deserved every tribute of gratitude 
from the Doctor and his literary friends ; who were 
always welcome at his hospitable table. It must there- 
fore give us great concern to see his origin degraded by 
any of them, in a manner that might be extremely in- 
jurious to his elegant and accomplished daughters, if it 
could not be contradicted ; for his father is represented 
to have been a common drayman ; whereas, he was well 
known to have been a respectable citizen, who increased 
a fortune, originally not contemptible, and proved his 
mind had been always liberal, by giving a superior 
education to his son. 

538. " The Rambler." 
Mr. Boswefl objects to the title of cc Rambler," which 
he says, was ill-suited to a series of grave and moral 
discourses, and is translated into Italian, 6C II Vaga- 
bondo," as also because the same title was afterwards 
given to a licentious magazine. These are curious rea- 
sons. But, in the first place, Mr. Boswell assumes, 
that Johnson intended only to write a series of papers 
on " grave and moral" subjects ; whereas, on the con- 
trary, he meant this periodical paper should be open for 
the reception of every subject, serious or sprightly, 
solemn or familiar, moral or amusing ; and therefore 
endeavoured to find a title as general and unconfined as 
possible. He acknowledged, that " The Spectator " 
was the most happily chosen of all others, and cc The 
Tatler" the next to it: and after long consideration 
how to fix a third title, equally capacious and suited to 
his purpose, he suddenly thought upon " The Ram- 



PERCY. 47 

bier" (*) ; and it would be difficult to find any other 
that so exactly coincided with the motto he has adopted 
in the title-page — 

" Quo me cunque rapit tempestas deferor hospes. " 

539. Fear of Death. 
Mr. Boswell states, that " Dr. Johnson's conduct, 
after he had associated with Savage and others, was 
not so strictly virtuous, in one respect, as when he was 
a younger man. ( 2 ) This seems to have been suggested 
by Mr. Boswell, to account for Johnson's religious ter- 
rors on the approach of death ; as if they proceeded 
from his having been led by Savage to vicious in- 
dulgences with the women of the town, in his nocturnal 
rambles. This, if true, Johnson was not likely to have 
confessed to Mr. Boswell, and therefore must be re- 
ceived as a pure invention of his own. But if Johnson 
ever conversed with those unfortunate females, it is be- 
lieved to have been in order to reclaim them from their 
dissolute life, by moral and religious impressions ; for 
to one of his friends he once related a conversation of 
that sort which he had with a young female in the street, 
and that, asking her what she thought she was made for, 
her reply was, if she supposed to please the gentlemen." 
His friend intimating his surprise, that he should have 
had communications with street-walkers, implying a 
suspicion that they were not of a moral tendency, John- 
son expressed the highest indignation that any other 
motive could ever be suspected. 

(1) [A paper, entitled "The Rambler," appeared in 1712. 
Only one number of it seems to have escaped the ravages of time ; 
this is in the British Museum.] 

(2) [See ante, Vol. VIII. p. 395. J 



48 JOHNSONIANA. 



Part XXVI. 



ANECDOTES AND REMARKS, 
BY LADY KNIGHT, (i) 



540. Mrs. Johnson. 

Mrs. Williams's account of Johnson's wife was, that 
she had a good understanding and great sensibility 
but inclined to be satirical. Her first husband died in- 
solvent : her sons were much disgusted with her for her 
second marriage ; perhaps because they, being strug- 
gling to get advanced in life, were mortified to think 
she had allied herself to a man who had not any visible 
means of being useful to them. However, she always 
retained her affection for them. While they resided in 
Gough Court, her son, the officer, knocked at the door, 
and asked the maid if her mistress was at home ? She 
answered, " Yes, Sir ; but she is sick in bed." " O !" 
says he, e< if it is so, tell her that her son Jervas called 
to know how she did ;" and was going away. The 
maid begged she might run up to tell her mistress, and, 
without attending his answer, left him. Mrs. Johnson, 
enraptured to hear her son was below, desired the maid 
to tell him she longed to embrace him. When the maid 
descended, the gentleman was gone, and poor Mrs. 
Johnson was much agitated by the adventure : it was 
the only time he ever made an effort to see her. Dr. 

(1) [From a paper transmitted by Lady Knight, at Rome, 
to Mr. Hoole. Lady Knight was the mother of Miss Cornelia 
Knight, the accomplished author of " Dinarbas," " Marcus 
Flaminius," and other ingenious works. See ante y Vol. I. p. 275., 
and Vol. III. p. 9.] 



LADY KNIGHT. 49 

Johnson did all he could to console his wife ; but told 
Mrs. Williams, " Her son is uniformly undutiful ; so I 
conclude, like many other sober men, he might once in 
his life be drunk, and in that fit nature got the better of 
his pride." 

541. Mrs. Williams. 

Mrs. Williams was never otherwise dependent on Dr. 
Johnson, than in that sort of association, which is little 
known in the great world. They both had much to 
struggle through ; and I verily believe, that whichever 
held the purse, the other partook what want required. 
She was, in respect to morals, more rigid than mo- 
dern politeness admits ; for she abhorred vice, and was 
not sparing of anger against those who threw young 
folks into temptation. Her ideas were very just in re- 
spect to the improvement of the mind, and her own 
was well stored. I have several of her letters : they 
are all written with great good sense and simplicity, 
and with a tenderness and affection, that far excel all 
that is called politeness and elegance. I have been 
favoured with her company some weeks at different 
times, and always found her temper equal, and her con- 
versation lively. I never passed hours with more plea- 
sure than when I heard her and J>r. Johnson talk of 
the persons they valued, or upon subjects in which they 
were much interested. One night I remember Mrs. 
Williams was giving an account of the Wilkinsons 
being at Paris, and having had consigned to their care 
the letters of Lady Wortley Montagu, on which they 
had bestowed great praise. The Doctor said, "Why, 
Madam, there might be great charms to them in being 
intrusted with honourable letters ; but those who know 
better of the world, would have rather possessed two 
pages of true history/' One day that he came to my 
house to meet many others, we told him that we had 
arranged our party to go to Westminster Abbey, would 
not he go with us ? a No," he replied ; u not while I 

vol. x. fi 



50 JOHNSONIANA. 

can keep out." Upon our saying, that the friends of a 
lady had been in great fear lest she should make a 
certain match for herself, he said, " We that are his 
friends have had great fears for him." I talked to Mrs. 
Thrale much of dear Mrs. Williams. She said she was 
highly born ; that she was very nearly related to a 
Welsh peer ; but that, though Dr. Johnson had always 
pressed her to be acquainted with her, yet she could 
not ; she was afraid of her. I named her virtues ; she 
seemed to hear me as if I had spoken of a newly dis- 
covered country. 

542. Johnson's Character. 
I think the character of Dr. Johnson can never be 
better summedup than in his own words in " Rasselas," 
chapter 42. He was master of an infinite deal of wit, 
which proceeded from depth of thought, and of a 
humour which he used sometimes to take off from the 
asperity of reproof. Though he did frequently utter very 
sportive things, which might be said to be playing upon 
the folly of some of his companions, and though he 
never said one that could disgrace him, yet I think, now 
that he is no more, the care should be to prove his steady 
uniformity in wisdom, virtue, and religion. His political 
principles ran high, both in church and state : he wished 
power to the king and to the heads of the church, as the 
laws of England have established ; but I know he disliked 
absolute power, and I am very sure of his disapprobation 
of the doctrines of the church of Rome ; because, about 
three weeks before we came abroad, he said to my Cor- 
nelia, " You are going where the ostentatious pomp of 
church ceremonies attracts the imagination ; but, if they 
want to persuade you to change your religion, you 
must remember, that, by increasing your faith, you may 
be persuaded to become a Turk." If these were not 
the words, I have kept up to the express meaning. 



STOCKDALE, SI 



Part XXVII. 



ANECDOTES, 
BY MR. STOCKDALE. (*) 



543. Swift — The Tale of a Tub. 

About the year 1770, I was invited by the lively 
and hospitable Tom Davies to dine with him, to meet 
some interesting characters. Dr. Johnson was of the 
party, and this was my first introduction to him : 
there were others, with whom every intelligent mind 
would have wished to converse, — Dr. Goldsmith and 
Mr. Meyer, the elegant miniature painter. Swift was 
one of our convivial subjects ; of whom it was Dr. John- 
son's invariable custom to speak in a disparaging man- 
ner. We gave our sentiments, and undoubtedly of 
high panegyric, on the Tale of a Tub ; of which Dr. 
Johnson insisted, in his usual positive manner, that it 
was impossible that Swift should have been the author, 
it was so eminently superior to all his other works. I 
expressed my own conviction, that it was written by 
Swift, and that, in many of his productions, he showed 
a genius not unequal to the composition of the Tale of 
a Tub. The Doctor desired me to name one. I re- 

(l) [From " Memoirs of the Life and Writings of Percival 
Stockdale," 2 vols. 8vo. 1809. To this gentleman, the "Bel- 
field " of Miss Burney's " Cecilia," Johnson was, upon several 
occasions, a kind protector. He was, for some years, the 
Doctor's neighbour, both in Johnson's Court and Bolt Court. 
For Miss Jane Porter's character of him, see ant^ Vol, III. 
p. 122. n.] 

E 2 



52 JOHNSONIAN' A. 

plied, that I thought Gulliver's Travels not unworthy 
of the performance he so exclusively admired. He would 
not admit the instance ; but said, that " if Swift was 
really the author of the Tale of a Tub, as the best of 
his other performances were of a very inferior merit, 
he should have hanged himself after he had written it." 

544. The Journal to Stella. 
Johnson said on the same day, " Swift corresponded 
minutely with Stella and Mrs. Dingley, on his im- 
portance with the ministry, from excessive vanity — that 
the women might exclaim, 'What a great man Dr. 
Swift is ! •'" 

54:5. Warburton. 
Among other topics, Warburton claimed our at- 
tention. Goldsmith took a part against Warburton 
whom Johnson strenuously defended, and, indeed, with 
many strong arguments, and with bright sallies of elo- 
quence. Goldsmith ridiculously asserted, that Warbur- 
ton was a weak writer. This misapplied characteristic 
Dr. Johnson refuted. I shall never forget one of the 
happy metaphors with which he strengthened and 
illustrated his refutation. " Warburton," said he, 
" may be absurd, but he will never be weak : he floun- 
ders well ." 

54:6. Johnson s Cat. 
If I wanted the precedents, examples, and authority 
of celebrated men, to warrant my humble regard and 
affection for a cat, either in my boyish or maturer years 
(that useful, and indeed amiable, but infamously ha- 
rassed and persecuted creature), those precedents I 
might easily produce. Montaigne has recorded his cat, 
in his usual facetiousness, but in an affectionate manner. 
And as the insolence of Achilles, and the sternness of 
Telamonian Ajax, were subdued by a Briseis and a 



STOCKDALE. 53 

Tecmessa, I have frequently seen the ruggedness of 
Dr. Johnson softened to smiles and caresses, by the 
inarticulate, yet pathetic, expressions of his favourite 
Hodge. 

547. Charles the Twelfth. 
Charles the Twelfth was guilty of a deed which will 
eternally shade the glory of one of the most splendid 
periods that are presented to us in history — the murder 
of Patkal. Dr. Johnson remarked to me, when we 
were conversing on this tragical subject, that Charles 
had nine years of good and nine of bad fortune ; that 
his adverse events began soon after the execution of 
Patkal, and continued to his death. Johnson may be 
pronounced to have been superstitious ; but I own that I 
was sensibly struck with the force of the observation. 

548. Pope's Homer. 
Lord Lyttelton told me, that on a visit to Mr. Pope, 
while he was translating the Iliad, he took the liberty 
to express to that great poet his surprise, that he had 
not determined to translate Homer's poem into blank 
verse ; as it was an epic poem, and as he had before 
him the illustrious example of Milton, in the Paradise 
Lost. Mr. Pope's answer to Lord Lyttelton was, that 
" he could translate it more easily into rhyme." I com- 
municated this anecdote to Dr. Johnson ; his remark 
to me was, I think, very erroneous in criticism, — " Sir, 
when Pope said that, he knew that he lied." 

549. Garrick. 

When Dr. Johnson and I were talking of Garrick, I 
observed, that he was a very moderate, fair, and pleas- 
ing companion ; when we considered what a constant 
influx had flowed upon him, both of fortune and fame, 
to throw him off his bias of moral and social self- 
government. tc Sir," replied Johnson, in his usual 
emphatical and glowing manner, " you are very right 
e 3 



54 JOHNbONIANA. 

in your remark ; Garrick has undoubtedly the merit of 
a temperate and unassuming behaviour in society ; for 
more pains have been taken to spoil that fellow, than if 
he had been heir apparent to the empire of India ! " 

When Garrick was one day mentioning to me Dr. 
Johnson's illiberal treatment of him, on different occa- 
sions ; " I question/' said he, " whether, in his calmest 
and most dispassionate moments, he would allow me 
the high theatrical merit which the public have been so 
generous as to attribute to me." I told him, that I 
would take an early opportunity to make the trial, and 
that I would not fail to inform him of the result of my 
experiment. As I had rather an active curiosity to put 
Johnson's disinterested generosity fairly to the test, on 
this apposite subject, I took an early opportunity of 
waiting on him, to hear his verdict on Garrick's pre- 
tensions to his great and universal fame. I found him 
in very good and social humour ; and I began a con- 
versation which naturally led to the mention of Garrick. 
I said something particular on his excellence as an actor; 
and I added, " But pray, Dr. Johnson, do you really 
think that he deserves that illustrious theatrical cha- 
racter, and that prodigious fame, which he has ac- 
quired?" u Ob, Sir," said he, (i he deserves every 
thing that he has acquired, for having seized the very 
soul of Shakspeare ; for having embodied it in himself; 
and for having extended its glory over the world/' I 
was not slow in communicating to Garrick the answer 
of the Delphic oracle. The tear started in his eye — 
" Oh ! Stockdale," said he, ce such a praise from such 
5 man ! — this atones for all that has passed." 

550. Intoxication* 

I called on Dr. Johnson one morning, when Mrs. 
Williams, the blind lady, was conversing with him. She 
was telling him where she had dined the day before. 
C£ There were several gentlemen there," said she, " and 



STOCKDALE. 55 

when some of them came to the tea-table, I found that 
there had been a good deal of hard drinking." She 
closed this observation with a common and trite moral 
reflection ; which, indeed, is very ill-founded, and does 
great injustice to animals — " I wonder what pleasure 
men can take in making beasts of themselves!" " I 
wonder, Madam," replied the Doctor, " that you have 
not penetration enough to see the strong inducement to 
this excess ; for he who makes a beast of himself gets 
rid of the pain of being a man." 

551. Mrs. Bruce. 

Mrs. Bruce^ an old Scotch lady, the widow of Cap- 
tain Bruce, who had been for many years an officer in 
the Russian service, drank tea with me one afternoon 
at my lodgings in Bolt Court, when Johnson was ond 
of the company. She spoke very broad Scotch ; and 
this alarmed me for her present social situation. " Dr a 
Johnson," said she/' you tell us, in your Dictionary, that 
in England oats are given to horses ; but that in Scot- 
land they support the people. Now, Sir, I can assure 
you, that in Scotland we give oats to our horses, as well 
as you do to yours in England." I almost trembled 
for the widow of the Russian hero : I never saw a 
more contemptuous leer than that which Johnson threw 
at Mrs. Bruce : however, he deigned her an answer, — 
" I am very glad, Madam, to find that you treat your 
horses as well as you treat yourselves/' I was delivered 
from my panic, and I wondered that she was so gently 
set down. 



56 JOHNSONIANA. 



Part XXVIII. 

ANECDOTES, 
BY MISS HAWKINS. (0 



552. Johnsons Person and Dress. 
When first I remember Johnson, I used to see him 
sometimes at a little distance from the house,, coming 
to call on my father ; his look directed downwards, or 
rather in such abstraction as to have no direction. His 
walk was heavy, but he got on at a great rate, his left 
arm always placed across his breast, so as to bring the 
hand under his chin ; and he walked wide, as if to sup- 
port his weight. Got out of a hackney coach, which 
had set him down in Fleet Street, my brother Henry 
says, he made his way up Bolt Court in the zig-zag 
direction of a blast of lightning ; submitting his course 
only to the deflections imposed by the impossibility of 
going further to right or left. 

His clothes hung loose, and the pocket on the right 
hand swung violently, the lining of his coat being 
always visible. I can now call to mind his brown hand, 
his metal sleeve-buttons, and my surprise at seeing him 
with plain wristbands, when all gentlemen wore ruffles ; 
his coat-sleeve being very wide, showed his linen almost 
to his elbow. His wig in common was cut and bushy; if 
by chance he had one that had been dressed in separate 

(1) [From the Memoirs of Letitia Hawkins (daughter of 
Sir John), 2 vols. 8vo. 1827-} 



MISS HAWKINS. 57 

curls, it gave him a disagreeable look, not suited to his 
years or character. 

In his colloquial intercourse, Johnson's compliments 
were studied, and therefore lost their effect : his head 
dipped lower ; the semicircle in which it revolved was 
of greater extent ; and his roar was deeper in its tone 
when he meant to be civil. His movement in reading, 
which he did with great rapidity, was humorously de- 
scribed after his death, by a lady, who said, that " his 
head swung seconds." 

The usual initial sentences of his conversation led 
some to imagine that to resemble him was as easy 
as to mimic him, and that, if they began with " Why, 
Sir," or " I know no reason," or ie If any man chooses 
to think," or " If you mean to say," they must, of 
course, " talk Johnson." That his style might be 
imitated, is true ; and that its strong features made it 
easier to lay hold on it than on a milder style, no one 
will dispute. 

553. The Economy of Bolt Court. 
What the economy of Dr. Johnson's house may have 
been under his wife's administration, I cannot tell ; but 
under Miss Williams's management, and, indeed, after- 
wards, when he was overcome at the misery of those 
around him, it always exceeded my expectation, as far 
as the condition of the apartment into which I was ad- 
mitted could enable me to judge. It was not, indeed, 
his study : amongst his books he probably might bring 
Magliabecchi to recollection; but I saw him only in the 
decent drawing-room of a house, not inferior to others 
on the same local situation, and with stout old-fashioned 
mahogany table and chairs. He was a liberal customer 
to his tailor, and I can remember that his linen was 
often a strong contrast to the colour of his hands. 

554}. Bennet Langton. 
On one occasion, I remember Johnson's departing 



58 JOHNSONIANA. 

from his gentleness towards Mr. Langton, and in his 
irritation showing some inconsistency of ideas. I went 
with my father to call in Bolt Court one Sunday after 
church. There were many persons in the Doctor's 
drawing-room, and among them Mr. Langton, who 
stood leaning against the post of en open door, under- 
going what I suppose the giver of it would have called 
an " objurgation." Johnson, on my father's entrance, 
went back to explain the cause of this, which was no 
less than that Mr. Langton, in his opinion, ought then 
to have been far on his road into Lincolnshire, where 
he was informed his mother was very ill. Mr. Lang- 
ton's pious affection for his mother could not be doubted, 
— she was a parent of whom any son might have been 
proud ; but this was a feeling which never could have 
been brought into the question by her son : the inert 
spirit, backed, perhaps, by hope, and previous knowledge 
of the extent of similar attacks, prevailed ; and John- 
son's arguments seemed hitherto rather to have riveted 
Mr. Langton's feet to the place where he was, than to 
have spurred him to quit it. My father, thus referred 
to, took up the subject, and a few half- whispered sen- 
tences from him made Mr. Langton take his leave ; but, 
as he was quitting the room, Johnson, with one of his 
howls, and his indescribable but really pathetic slow 
semi-circuits of his head, said most energetically, " Do, 
Hawkins, teach Langton a little of the world." 

555. Mrs. Thrale. 
On the death of Mr. Thrale, it was concluded by 
some, that Johnson would marry the widow ; by others, 
that he would entirely take up his residence in her house; 
which, resembling the situation of many other learned 
men, would have been nothing extraordinary or cen- 
surable. The path he would pursue was not evident ; 
. when, on a sudden, he came out again, and sought my 
father with kind eagerness. Calls were exchanged : he 



MISS HAWKINS. 59 

would now take his tea with us ; and in one of those 
evening visits, which were the pleasantest periods of my 
knowledge of him, saying, when taking leave, that he 
was leaving London, Lady Hawkins said, " I suppose you 
are going to Bath ?" u Why should you suppose so ? " 
said he. " Because," said my mother, u I hear Mrs. 
Thrale is gone there/' " I know nothing of Mrs. 
Thrale," he roared out ; " good evening to you." The 
state of affairs was soon made known. 

556. Warburton. 
To Warbur ton's great powers he did full justice. 
He did not always, my brother says, agree with him 
in his notions ; " but," said he, (C with all his errors, si 
non err asset, fecerat ille minus" Speaking of War bur- 
ton's contemptuous treatment of some one who presumed 
to differ from him, I heard him repeat with much glee 
the coarse expressions in which he had vented this feel- 
ing, that there could be no doubt of his hearty appro- 
bation. 

557. Sex. 
He said, he doubted whether there ever was a man 
who was not gratified by being told that he was liked by 
the women. 

558. Reading and Study. 
Speaking of reading and study, my younger brother 
heard him say, that he would not ask a man to give up 
his important interests for them, because it would not 
be fair ; but that, if any man would employ in reading 
that time which he would otherwise waste, he would 
answer for it, if he were a man of ordinary endowment, 
that he would make a sensible man. " He might not/' 
said he, " make a Bentley, but he would be a sensible 
man," 



60 JOHNSONIANA. 

559* Thurlow. — Burke, — Boswell. 
It may be said of Johnson, that he had a peculiar 
individual feeling of regard towards his many and va- 
rious friends, and that he was to each what I might call 
the indenture or counterpart of what they were to him. 
My brother says, that any memoirs of his conversations 
with Lord Thurlow or Burke would be invaluable : to 
the former he acknowledged that he always (( talked his 
best;" and the latter would, by the force of his own 
powers, have tried those of Johnson to the utmost. But 
still the inquisitive world, that world whose inquisitive- 
ness has tempted almost to sacrilege, would not have 
been satisfied without the minor communications of 
Boswell, though he sometimes sorely punctured his 
friend to get at what he wanted. 

560. Complainers. 
It is greatly to the honour of Johnson, that he never 
accustomed himself to descant on the ingratitude of 
mankind, or to comment on the many causes he had 
to think harshly of the world. He said once to my 
youngest brother, " I hate a complainer." This hatred 
might preserve him from the habit. 

561. Envy. — Dr. Taylor. 
Johnson was, with all his infirmities, bodily and 
mental, less of the thorough-bred irritabile genus of 
authors, than most of his compeers : he had no petty 
feelings of animosity, to be traced only to mean causes. 
He said of some one, indeed, that he was " a good 
hater," as if he approved the feeling ; but I understand 
by the expression, that it was at least a justifiable, an 
honest and avowed aversion, that obtained this character 
for its possessor. But still more to his honour is it, 
that his irritability was not excited by the most common 
cause of mortification. He saw the companion of his 
studies and the witness of his poverty, Taylor, raised 



MISS HAWKINS. 61 

by the tide of human affairs to bloating affluence, and, 
I should presume,, with pretensions of every kind, far, 
very far inferior to his : yet I do not recollect having 
ever heard of a sigh excited by his disparity of lot. 
That he envied Garrick, while he loved and admired 
him, is true ; but it was under the pardonable feeling 
of jealousy, in seeing histrionic excellence so much more 
highly prized, than that which he knew himself to 
possess* 

562. Reynolds's " Discourses" 
On Johnson's death, Mr. Langton said to Sir John 
Hawkins, " We shall now know whether he has or has 
not assisted Sir Joshua in his f Discourses ; ' " but Johnson 
had assured Sir John, that his assistance had never ex- 
ceeded the substitution of a word or two, in preference 
to what Sir Joshua had written. 

563. " Mr. James Boswell" 
My father and Boswell grew a little acquainted ; and 
when the Life of their friend came out, Boswell showed 
himself very uneasy under an injury, which he was 
much embarrassed in defining. He called on my father, 
and being admitted, complained of the manner in which 
he was enrolled amongst Johnson's friends, which was 
as u Mr. James Boswell of Auchinleck." Where was the 
offence ? It was one of those which a complainant 
hardly dares to embody in words : he would only repeat, 
' ' Well, but Mr. James Boswell ! surely, surely, Mr. 
James Boswell ! ! " " I know/' said my father, u Mr. 
Boswell, what you mean ; you would have had me say 
that Johnson undertook this tour with The Boswell." 
He could not indeed absolutely covet this mode of pro- 
clamation ; he would perhaps have been content with 
" the celebrated," or " the well-known," but he could 
not confess quite so much ; he therefore acquiesced in 
the amendment proposed, but he was forced to depart 
without any promise of correction in a subsequent 
edition. 



62 JOHNSONIANA. 

Part XXIX. 

ANECDOTES, 

BY JOHN NICHOLS, ESQ. (i) 



564. <e Literary Anecdotes." — Thirlby. 
My intimate acquaintance with that bright luminary 
of literature, Johnson, did not commence till he was ad- 
vanced in years ; but it happens to have fallen to my lot 
(and I confess that I am proud of it) to have been present 
at many interesting conversations in the latest periods of 
the life of this illustrious pattern of true piety. In the 
progress of his i( Lives of the Poets," I had the good 
fortune to conciliate his esteem, by several little services. 
Many of his short notes during the progress of that 
work are printed in the Gentleman's Magazine, and in 
one of his letters to Mrs. Thrale he says_, i( I have 
finished the life of Prior — and now a fig for Mr. 
Nichols ! " Our friendship, however, did not cease 
with the termination of those volumes. 

565. Lichfield. 
Of his birth-place, Lichfield, Dr. Johnson always 
spoke with a laudable enthusiasm. " Its inhabitants," 
he said, ' c were more orthodox in their religion, more 
pure in their language, and more polite in their manners, 
than any other town in the kingdom ;" and he often 
lamented, that cc no city of equal antiquity and worth 
had been so destitute of a native to record its fame, and 
transmit its history to posterity." 

(1) [From "Literary Anecdotes of the Eighteenth Cen- 
tury," in 9 vols. 8vo. 1812—15. For a character of Mr. Nichol", 
and of this work, see ante, Vol. VIII. p. 374.] 



NICHOLS. 63 

566. Roxana and Statira, 
Mr. Cradock informs me, that he once accompanied 
Dr. Johnson and Mr. Steevens to Marylebone Gardens, 
to see " La Serva Padrona" performed. Mr. Steevens, 
being quite weary of the burletta, exclaimed, " There 
is no plot ; it is merely an old fellow cheated, and de- 
luded by his servant ; it is quite foolish and unnatural." 
Johnson instantly replied, " Sir, it is not unnatural. 
It is a scene that is acted in my family every day in my 
life." This did not allude to the maid servant, however, 
so much as to two distressed ladies, whom he gene- 
rously supported in his house, who were always quarrel- 
ling. These ladies presided at Johnson's table by turns 
when there was company ; which, of course, would pro- 
duce disputes. I ventured one day to say, " Surely, 
Dr. Johnson, Roxana for this time should take place of 
Statira/' iC Yes, Sir," replied the Doctor ; but, in my 
family, it has never been decided which is Roxana, 
and which is Statira." 

56*7. Joseph Reed's Tragedy. 
It happened that I was in Bolt Court on the day 
when Mr. Henderson, the justly celebrated actor, was 
first introduced to Dr. Johnson ; and the conversation 
turning on dramatic subjects, Henderson asked the 
Doctor's opinion of " Dido " and its author. " Sir," 
said Johnson, ec I never did the man an injury ; yet 
he would read his tragedy to me." 

568. Samuel Boyse. ( l ) 
The following particulars of the unfortunate Samuel 
Boyse I had from Dr. Johnson's own mouth : — " By 
addressing himself to low vices, among which were 
gluttony and extravagance, Boyse rendered himself so 
contemptible and wretched, that he frequently was 
without the least subsistence for days together. After 

(I) See ante, Vol. VIII. p. 183. 



64 JOHNSONIANA. 

squandering away in a dirty manner any money which 
he acquired, he has been known to pawn all his apparel." 
Dr. Johnson once collected a sum of money to redeem 
his clothes, which in two days after were pawned again. 
"" This/' said the Doctor, " was when my acquaintances 
were few, and most of them as poor as myself. The 
money was collected by shillings. " 

569* Lauder $ Forgery. 
On my showing Dr. Johnson Archdeacon Black- 
burne's " Remarks on the Life of Milton," which were 
published in 1780, he wrote on the margin of p. 14., 
" In the business of Lauder I was deceived ; partly by 
thinking the man too frantic to be fraudulent/' 

570. Dr. Heberden. 

Dr. Johnson being asked in his last illness, what phy- 
sician he had sent for — " Dr. Heberden," replied he, 
" ultimum Romanorum, the last of our learned phy- 
sicians." 

571. Parliamentary Debates. 
On the morning of Dec. 7* 1784, only six days before 
his death, Dr. Johnson requested to see the editor of 
these anecdotes, from whom he had borrowed some cf 
the early volumes of the Gentleman's Magazine, with a 
professed intention to point out the pieces which he 
had written in that collection. The books lay on the 
table, with many leaves doubled down, particularly those 
which contained his share in the Parliamentary Debates ; 
and such was the goodness of Johnson's heart, that he 
solemnly declared, that cc the only part of his writings 
which then gave him any compunction, was his account 
of the debates in the Magazine ; but that at the time he 
wrote them he did not think he was imposing on the 
world. The mode," he said, u was to fix upon a 
speaker's name, then to conjure up an answer. He 



NICHOLS- 65 

wrote these debates with more velocity than any other 
of his productions ; often three columns of the maga- 
zine within the hour. He once wrote ten pages in one 
day. 

572. Mr. Faden. 

Dr. Johnson said to me, I may possibly live, or rather 
breathe, three days, or perhaps three weeks ; but I find 
myself daily and gradually worse. Before I quitted 
him, he asked, whether any of the family of Faden, the 
printer, were alive. Being told that the geographer 
near Charing Cross was Faden's son, he said, after a 
short pause, " I borrowed a guinea of his father near 
thirty years ago ; be so good as to take this, and pay 
it for me." 

573. Last Interview. 

During the whole time of my intimacy with him, he 
rarely permitted me to depart without some sententious 
advice. At the latest of these affecting interviews, his 
words at parting were, " Take care of your eternal sal- 
vation. Remember to observe the sabbath. Let it 
never be a day of business, nor wholly £ day of dissi- 
pation." He concluded his solemn farewell witb, " Let 
my words have their due weight. They are the words 
of a dying man." 1 never saw him more. In the last 
five or six days of his life but few even of his most in- 
timate friends were admitted. Every hour that could 
be abstracted from his bodily pains and infirmities, was 
spent in prayer and the warmest ejaculations ; and in 
that pious, praiseworthy, and exemplary manner, he 
closed a life begun, continued, and ended in virtue. 



vol. x. 



66 JOHNSONIANA. 



Part XXX. 



ANECDOTES AND REMARKS, 
BY ARTHUR MURPHY, ESQ. (i) 



574. Introductory, 
I enjoyed the conversation and friendship of that 
excellent man more than thirty years. I thought it an 
honour to be so connected, and to this hour I reflect 
on his loss with regret : but regret, I know, has secret 
bribes, by which the judgment may be influenced, and 
partial affection may be carried beyond the bounds of 
truth. In the present case, however, nothing needs to 
be disguised, and exaggerated praise is unnecessary. 

575. First Interview. 
It was in the summer 1754, that I became acquainted 
with Dr. Johnson. The cause of his first visit is re- 
lated by Mrs. Piozzi nearly in the following manner : — 
" Mr. Murphy being engaged in a periodical paper, the 
c Gray's Inn Journal/ was at a friend's house in the 
country, and, not being disposed to lose pleasure for 
business, wished to content his bookseller by some un- 
studied essay. He therefore took up a French Journal 
Litteraire, and, translating something he liked, sent it 
away to town. Time, however, discovered that he 
translated from the French a e Rambler,' which had 
been taken from the English without acknowledgment. 

(l) [From " An Essay on the Life and Genius of Samuel 
Johnson, LL. D." prefixed to his Works; and first published 
.n 1792.] 



MURPHY. 67 

Upon this discovery, Mr. Murphy thought it right to 
make his excuses to Dr. Johnson. He went next day, 
and found him covered with soot, like a chimney- 
sweeper, in a little room, as if he had been acting 
c Lungs' in the Alchymist, making ether. This being 
told by Mr. Murphy in company, e Come, come/ said 
Dr. Johnson, ' the story is black enough ; but it was a 
happy day that brought you first to my house/ " After 
this first visit, I by degrees grew intimate with Dr. 
Johnson. 

576. Lord Bolingbroke. 

The first striking sentence that I heard from Dr. John- 
son was in a few days after the publication of Lord Bo- 
lingbroke's posthumous works. Mr. Garrick asked him, 
<c If he had seen them ?" " Yes, I have seen them." 
" What do you think of them ? " " Think of them ! " 
He made a long pause, and then replied : " Think of 
them ! A scoundrel and a coward ! A scoundrel, who 
spent his life in charging a gun against Christianity ; 
and a coward, who was afraid of hearing the report of 
his own gun ; but left half a crown to a hungry Scotch- 
man to draw the trigger after his death." 

577. Picture of Himself. 

Johnson's reflections on his own life and conduct 
were always severe ; and, wishing to be immaculate, he 
destroyed his own peace by unnecessary scruples. He 
tells us, that, when he surveyed his past life, he dis- 
covered nothing but a barren waste of time, with some 
disorders of body, and disturbances of mind very near 
to madness. His life, he says, from his earliest youth, 
was wasted in a morning bed ; and his reigning sin was 
a general sluggishness, to which he was always in- 
clined, and, in part of his life, almost compelled, by 
morbid melancholy and weariness of mind. This was 
f 2 



68 JOHNSONIANA. 

his constitutional malady, derived, perhaps from his 
father, who was, at times, overcast with a gloom that 
bordered on insanity. 

In a Latin poem, to which he has prefixed as a title 
rNO0I 2EATTON, he has left a picture of himself, 
drawn with as much truth, and as firm a hand, as can 
he seen in the portraits of Hogarth or Sir Joshua 
Reynolds. The learned reader will find the original 
poem in the first volume of his Works; and it is hoped 
that a translation, or rather imitation, of so curious a 
piece will not be improper in this place : — 

" KNOW YOURSELF. 

" AFTER REVISING AND ENLARGING THE ENGLISH LEXICON, OK 
DICTIONARY. 

" When Scaliger, whole years of labour past, 
Beheld his Lexicon complete at last, 
And weary of his task, with wond'ring eyes, 
Saw from words piled on words a fabric rise, 
He cursed the industry, inertly strong, 
In creeping toil that could persist so long, 
And if, enraged he cried, Heav'n meant to shed 
Its keenest vengeance on the guilty head, 
The drudgery of words the damn'd would know, 
Doom'd to write Lexicons in endless woe. (l) 

c; Yes, you had cause, great Genius, to repent ; 
* You lost good days, that might be better spent ; ' 
You well might grudge the hours of ling'ring pain, 
And view your learned labours with disdain. 
To you were given the large expanded mind, 
The flame of genius, and the taste refined. 
'Twas yours on eagle wings aloft to soar, 
And amidst rolling worlds the Great First Cause explore; 



(1) See Scaliger's epigram on this subject, communicated 
without doubt by Dr. Johnson, Gent. Mag. 1748. — M, 



MURPHY. 69 

1\> fix the aeras of recorded time, 
And live in ev'ry age and ev'ry clime ; 
Record the chiefs, who propt their country's cause; 
Who founded empires, and establish'd laws ; 
To learn whate'er the sage with virtue fraught, 
Whate'er the Muse of moral wisdom taught. 
These were your quarry ; these to you were known, 
And the world's ample volume was your own. 

* Yet warn'd by me, ye pigmy Wits, beware, 
Nor with immortal Scaliger compare. 
For me, though his example strike my view, 
Oh ! not for me his footsteps to pursue. 
Whether first Nature, unpropitious, cold, 
This clay compounded in a ruder mould ; 
Or the slow current, loit'ring at my heart, 
No gleam of wit or fancy can impart ; 
Whate'er the cause, from me no numbers flow, 
No visions warm me, and no raptures glow. 

•* A mind like Scaliger's, superior still, 
No grief could conquer, no misfortune chill. 
Though for the maze of words his native skies 
He seem'd to quit, 't was but again to rise ; 
To mount once more to the bright source of day, 
And view the wonders of th' etherial way. 
The love of fame his gen'rous bosom fired ; 
Each Science hail'd him, and each Muse inspired. 
For him the Sons of Learning trimm'd the bays, 
And nations grew harmonious in his praise. 

u My task perform'd, and all my labours o*er, 
For me what lot has Fortune now in store ? 
The listless will succeeds, that worst disease, 
The rack of indolence, the sluggish ease. 
Care grows on care, and o'er my aching brain 
Black Melancholy pours her morbid train. 
No kind relief, no lenitive at hand, 
I seek, at midnight clubs, the social band ; 
But midnight clubs, where wit with noise conspires^ 
Where Comus revels, and where wine inspires, 
F 3 



70 JOHNSON1ANA. 

Delight no more : I seek my lonely bed, 
And call on Sleep to sooth my languid head 
But sleep from these sad lids flies far away ; 
I mourn all night, and dread the coming day. 
Exhausted, tired, I throw my eyes around, 
To find some vacant spot on classic ground : 
And soon, vain hope ! I form a grand design ; 
Langour succeeds, and all my powers decline. 
If Science open not her richest vein, 
Without materials all our toil is vain. 
A form to rugged stone when Phidias gives, 
Beneath his touch a new creation lives. 
Remove his marble, and his genius dies ; 
With nature then no breathing statue vies. 

:i Whate'er I plan, I feel my powers confined 
By Fortune's frown and penury of mind. 
I boast no knowledge glean'd with toil and strife, 
That bright reward of a well- acted life. 
I view myself, while Reason's feeble light 
Shoots a pale glimmer through the gloom of night. 
While passions, errors, phantoms of the brain, 
And vain opinions, fill the dark domain ; 
A dreary void, where fears with grief combined 
Waste all within, and desolate the mind. 

'-' What then remains? Must I in slow decline 
To mute inglorious ease old age resign ? 
Or, bold ambition kindling in my breast, 
Attempt some arduous task ? Or, were it best 
Brooding o'er Lexicons to pass the day, 
And in that labour drudge my life away ? " (l) 

Such is the picture for which Dr. Johnson sat to 
himself. He gives the prominent features of his cha- 
racter ; his lassitude, his morbid melancholy, his love 
of fame, his dejection, his tavern parties, and his wan- 
dering reveries, Vacua mala somnia mentis, abou/; 

(1) [This spirited translation, or rather imitation, is by Mr. 
Murphy.] 



MURPHY. 71 

which so much has heen written ; all are painted in 
miniature, but in vivid colours, by his own hand. His 
idea of writing more dictionaries was not merely said in 
verse. Mr. Hamilton, who was at that time an eminent 
printer, and well acquainted with Dr. Johnson, re- 
members that he engaged in a Commercial Dictionary, 
and, as appears by the receipts in his possession, was 
paid his price for several sheets ; but he soon relin- 
quished the undertaking. 

578. BoswelVs Introduction to Johnson. 
Upon one occasion, I went with Dr. Johnson into 
the shop of Davies, the bookseller, in Russell Street, 
Covent Garden. Davies came running to him almost 
out of breath with joy : " The Scots gentleman is 
come, Sir; his principal wish is to see you; he is now 
in the back parlour." "Well, well, I'll see the gen- 
tleman," said Johnson. He walked towards the room. 
Mr. Bos well was the person. I followed with no small 
curiosity. " I find," said Mr. Boswell, u that I am 
come to London at a bad time, when great popular pre- 
judice has gone forth against us North Britons ; but, 
when I am talking to you, I am talking to a large and 
liberal mind, and you know that I cannot help coining 
from Scotland/* "Sir," said Johnson, "no more can 
the rest of your countrymen." (*) 

579. Dread of Death. 
For many years, when he was not disposed to enter 
into the conversation going forward, whoever sat near 
his chair might hear him repeating, from Shakspeare, — 

" Ay, but to die and go we know not where; 
To lie in cold obstruction and to rot • 



(1) [Mr. BoswelPs account of this introduction is very dif« 
ferent from the above. See ante, Vol. II. p. 163,1 
F 4 






> 



<2 JOHNSONIANA. 

This sensible warm motion to become 
\ kneaded clod, and the delighted spirit 
To bathe in fiery floods," 

And from Milton,— 

" Who would lose, 
For fear of pain, this intellectual being ! " 

580. Essex- Head Club. 
Johnson, being in December 1783 eased of his dropsy, 
began to entertain hopes that the vigour of his con- 
stitution was not entirely broken. For the sake of 
conversing with his friends, he established a conversa- 
tion-club, to meet on every Wednesday evening ; and, 
to serve a man whom he had known in Mr. Thrale's 
household for many years, the place was fixed at his 
house in Essex Street near the Temple. To answer the 
malignant remarks of Sir John Hawkins, on this sub- 
ject ( J ), were a wretched waste of time. Professing to 
be Johnson's friend, that biographer has raised more 
objections to his character than all the enemies to that 
excellent man. Sir John had a root of bitterness that 
" put rancours in the vessel of his peace." " Fielding,'* 
he says, " was the inventor of a cant phrase, Goodness 
of heart, which means little more than the virtue of a 
horse or a dog." He should have known that kind 
affections are the essence of virtue ; they are the will 
of God implanted in our nature, to aid and strengthen 
moral obligation ; they incite to action ; a sense of be- 
nevolence is no less necessary than a sense of duty. 
Good affections are an ornament not only to an author 
but to his writings. He who shows himself upon a 
cold scent for opportunities to bark and snarl through- 
out a volume of six hundred pages, may, if he will, 
pretend to moralise ; but " goodness of heart," or, to 

(l) [See ante, Vol. VIII. p. 250.] 



MURPHY. 73 

use the politer phrase, the iC virtue of a horse or a dog," 
would redound more to his honour. 

581. Character of Johnson, 
If we now look back, as from an eminence, to view 
the scenes of life and the literary labours in which Dr. 
Johnson was engaged, we may be able to delineate the 
features of the man, and to form an estimate of his 
genius. As a man, Dr. Johnson stands displayed in 
open daylight. Nothing remains undiscovered. What- 
ever he said is known ; and, without allowing him the 
usual privilege of hazarding sentiments, and advancing 
positions, for mere amusement, or the pleasure of dis- 
cussion, criticism has endeavoured to make him an- 
swerable for what, perhaps, he never seriously thought. 
His Diary, which has been printed, discovers still more. 
We have before us the very heart of the man, with all 
his inward consciousness. And yet, neither in the open 
paths of life, nor in his secret recesses, has any one 
vice been discovered. We see him reviewing every 
year of his life, and severely censuring himself, for not 
keeping resolutions, which morbid melancholy and 
other bodily infirmities rendered impracticable. We 
see him for every little defect imposing on himself vo- 
luntary penance, and to the last, amidst paroxysms and 
remissions of illness, forming plans of study and reso- 
lutions to amend his life. ( l ) Many of his scruple? 
may be called weaknesses ; but they are the weaknesses 
of a good, a pious, and most excellent man. 

Johnson was born a logician ; one of those to whom 
only books of logic are said to be of use. In conse- 
quence of his skill in that art, he loved argumentation. 
No man thought more profoundly, nor with such acute 
discernment. A fallacy could not stand before him : 



(l) On the subject of voluntary penance; see the Rambler 
No. 110. 



74 JOHNSONIANA. 

it was sure to be refuted by strength of reasoning, and 
a precision both in idea and expression almost une- 
qualled. When he chose by apt illustration to place 
the argument of his adversary in a ludicrous light, one 
was almost inclined to think ridicule the test of truth. 
He was surprised to be told, but it is certainly true, that, 
with great powers of mind, wit and humour were his 
shining talents. That he often argued for the sake of 
triumph over his adversary, cannot be dissembled. Dr. 
Rose, of Chiswick, has been heard to tell a friend of his, 
who thanked him for introducing him to Dr. Johnson, 
as he had been convinced, in the course of a long dis- 
pute, that an opinion, which he had embraced as a 
settled truth, was no better than a vulgar error. This 
being reported to Johnson, " Nay/' said he, " do not 
let him be thankful; for he was right, and I was 
wrong." Like his uncle Andrew, in the ring at 
Smithfield, Johnson, in a circle of disputants, was 
determined neither to be thrown nor conquered. Not- 
withstanding all his piety, self-government, or the com- 
mand of his passions in conversation, does not seem 
to have been among his attainments. Whenever he 
thought the contention was for superiority, he has been 
known to break out with violence, and even ferocity. 
When the fray was over, he generally softened into 
repentance, and, by conciliating measures, took care that 
no animosity should be left rankling in the breast of 
his antagonist. 

It is observed by the younger Pliny, that in the con- 
fines of virtue and great qualities there are generally 
vices of an opposite nature. In Dr. Johnson not one 
ingredient can take the name of vice. From his attain- 
ments in literature grew the pride of knowledge ; and, 
from his powers of reasoning, the love of disputation 
and the vainglory of superior vigour. His piety, in 
some instances, bordered on superstition. He was will- 
ing to believe in preternatural agency, and thought it 



MURPHY. 75 

not more strange that there should be evil spirits than 
evil men. Even the question about second sight held 
him in suspense. 

Since virtue, or moral goodness, consists in a just 
conformity of our actions to the relations in which we 
stand to the Supreme Being and to our fellow- creatures, 
where shall we find a man who has been, or endea- 
voured to be, more diligent in the discharge of those 
essential duties ? His first Prayer was composed in 
1738 ; he continued those fervent ejaculations of piety 
to the end of his life. In his Meditations we see 'nirn 
scrutinising himself with severity, and aiming at per- 
fection unattainable by man. His duty to his neigh- 
bour consisted in universal benevolence, and a constant 
aim at the production of happiness. Who was more 
sincere and steady in his friendships ? 

His humanity and generosity, in proportion to his 
slender income, were unbounded. It has been truly 
said, that the lame, the blind, and the sorrowful, found 
in his house a sure retreat. A strict adherence to truth 
he considered as a sacred obligation, insomuch that, in 
relating the most minute anecdote, he would not allow 
himself the smallest addition to embellish his story. 
The late Mr. Tyers, who knew Dr. Johnson intimately, 
observed, that " he always talked as if he was talking 
upon oath." After a long acquaintance with this ex- 
cellent man, and an attentive retrospect to his whole 
conduct, such is the light in which he appears to the 
writer of this essay. The following lines of Horace 
may be deemed his picture in miniature : — 

" Iracundior est paulo, minus aptus acutis 
Naribus horum hominum, rideri possit, eo quod 
Rusticius tonso toga defluit, et male laxus 
In pede calceus hagret; at est bonus, ut melior vir 
Non alius quisquam ; at tibi amicus at ingenium ingens; 
Inculto latet hoc sub corpore." 



76 JOHNSONIANA. 

" Your friend is passionate, perhaps unfit 
For the brisk petulance of modern wit 
His hair ill-cut, his robe that awkward ffows* 
Or his large shoes to raillery expose 

The man you love ; yet is he not possess'd 
Of virtues with which very few are blest? 
While underneath this rude, uncouth disguise 
A genius of extensive knowledge lies." 



Part XXXI. 

CRITICAL REMARKS, 
BY NATHAN DRAKE, M.D. (i) 



582. "London." 
As this spirited imitation of Juvenal forms an epoch 
in our author's literary life, and is one of his best poeticai 
productions, I shall consider it as introductory to an 
uninterrupted consideration of his compositions in this 
branch, and to a discussion of his general character as a 
poet ; and this plan I shall pursue with regard to the 
other numerous departments of literature in which he 
excelled, and according to the order in which the first 
in merit of a class shall in succession rise to view ; per- 
suaded that, by this mode, the monotony arising from 

(1) [From "Essays, critical and historical, illustrative of the 
Rambler, Adventurer, and Idler:" Part II. " The Literary 
Life of Dr. Johnson." 2 vols. 1806 



DRAKE. 77 

a stricter chronological detail of his various writings, 
the arrangement hitherto adopted by his biographers, 
may, in a great measure, be obviated. 

Of the three imitators of the third satire of the 
Roman poet, Boileau, Oldham, and Johnson, the latter 
is, by many degrees, the most vigorous and poetical. 
No man, indeed, was better calculated to transfuse the 
stern invective, the sublime philosophy, and nervous 
painting of Juvenal, than our author; and his " London," 
whilst it rivals the original in these respects, is, at the 
same time, greatly superior to it in purity of illustration, 
and harmony of versification. The felicity with which 
he has adapted the imagery and allusions of the Latin 
poem to modern manners, vices, and events ; and the 
richness and depth of thought which he exhibits when 
the hint is merely taken from the Roman bard, or 
when he chooses altogether to desert him, are such as 
to render this satire the noblest moral poem in our lan- 
guage. 

At the period when Johnson wrote his " London," he 
must, from his peculiar circumstances, have been prone 
to imbibe all the warmth and indignation of the ancient 
satirist, who depicts in the boldest colours the un- 
merited treatment to which indigence is subjected, and 
the multiform oppressions arising from tyranny and ill- 
acquired wealth. He was, indeed, at this time, " steeped 
up to the lips in poverty," and was likewise a zealous 
opponent of what he deemed a corrupt administration. 
It is impossible to read the following passage, one of 
the finest in the poem, and especially its concluding 
line, which the author distinguished by capitals, without 
deeply entering into, and severely sympathising with, 
the feelings and sufferings of the writer : — 

" By numbers here from shame or censure free, 
All crimes are safe but hated poverty. 
This, only this, the rigid law pursues, 
This, only this, provokes the snarling muse. 



78 JOHNSONIANA. 

The sober trader at a tatter'd cloak 
Wakes from his dream, and labours for a joke ; 
With brisker air the silken courtiers gaze, 
And turn the varied taunt a thousand ways. 

" Of all the griefs that harass the distress'd, 
Sure the most bitter is a scornful jest ; 
Fate never wounds more deep the gen'rous heart, 
That when a blockhead's insult points the dart. 

" Has Heaven reserved, in pity to the poor, 
No pathless waste, or undiscover'd shore ? 
No secret island in the boundless main ! 
No peaceful desert yet unclaim'd by Spain ? 
Quick let us rise, the happy seats explore, 
And bear oppression's insolence no more. 
This mournful truth is every where confess'd, 
Slow rises worth, by poverty depressed" 

Of the energy and compression which characterise 
the sentiment and diction of (< London/' this last line 
is a striking example ; for the original, though strong in 
its expression, is less terse and happy : — 

" Haud facile emergunt, quorum virtutibus obstat 
Res angusta domi.'* 

583. fc Vanity of Human Wishes." 
The " Vanity of Human Wishes/' the subject of 
which is in a great degree founded on the Alcibiades 
of Plato, possesses not the point and fire which animates 
the " London." It breathes, however, a strain of calm 
and dignified philosophy, much more pleasing to the 
mind, and certainly much more consonant to truth, 
than the party exaggeration of the prior satire. The 
poet's choice of modern examples, in place of those 
brought forward by the ancient bard, is happy and 
judicious ; and he has every where availed himself, and 
in a style the most impressive, of the solemnity, the 
pathos, and sublime morality of the Christian code. 
To enter into competition with the tenth satire of 



DRAKE. 79 

Juvenal, which is, without doubt, the most perfect 
composition of its author, was a daring and a hazardous 
attempt. Dryden had led the way, and, though oc- 
casionally successful, has failed to equal the general 
merit of the Latin poem. The imitation of Johnson, 
on the contrary, may be said to vie with the Roman in 
every line, and in some instances to surpass the original ; 
particularly in the sketch of Charles, and in the con- 
clusion of the satire, which, though nobly moral as it 
is in the page of Juvenal, is greatly heightened by the 
pen of Johnson, and forms one of the finest lessons of 
piety and resignation discoverable in the works of any 
uninspired writer. After reprobating the too frequent 
folly of our wishes and our prayers, it is inquired of 
the poet, whether we shall upon no occasion implore 
the mercy of the skies ? He replies : — 

" Inquirer, cease; petitions yet remain, 
Which Heaven may hear, nor deem religion vain. 
Still raise for good the supplicating voice, 
But leave to Heaven the measure and the choice. 
Safe in his power, whose eyes discern afar 
The secret ambush of a specious prayer ; 
Implore his aid, in his decisions rest, 
Secure whate'er he gives he gives the best. 
Yet when the sense of sacred presence fires, 
And strong devotion to the skies aspires, 
Pour forth thy fervours for a healthful mind y 
Obedient passions, and a icill resigned. 
For love, which scarce collective man canfUl ; 
For patience, sovereign o'er transmuted ill; 
For faith, that, pantingfor a happier leat, 
Counts death kind nature's signal of retreat : 
These goods for man the laws of heaven ord lin, 
These goods he grants, who grants the powc* to gain ; 
With these celestial wisdom calms the mind, 
And makes the happiness she does not find." 



80 johnsomana 

584. " Irene." 

<c Irene " can boast of a strict adherence to the 
unities ; of harmonious versification ; of diction vigor- 
ous and splendid; of sentiment morally correct and 
philosophically beautiful : but its fable is without in- 
terest, its characters without discrimination, and neither 
terror nor pity is excited. If it fail, however, as a 
drama, in delineating the ebullitions of passion, it will, 
as a series of ethic dialogues, replete with striking ob- 
servations on human conduct, and rich in poetic ex- 
pression, be long studied and admired in the closet. No 
one of the productions of Johnson, indeed, was more 
carefully elaborated than his " Irene ; " and, though com- 
menced at an early period of life, no one more evidently 
discovers his exclusive love of moral philosophy, and 
his ample store of nervous and emphatic language. Of 
the numerous passages which illustrate this remark, and 
which, for their moral excellence, should dwell upon the 
memory, I shall adduce two, in conception and in exe- 
cution alike happy. Demetrius, addressing the aged 
Visier Cali on the danger of protracting the blow which 
he intended until the morrow, exclaims, — 

" To-morrow's action ! can that hoary wisdom, 
Borne down with years, still doat upon to-morrow ! 
That fatal mistress of the young, the lazy, 
The coward, and the fool, condemn'd to lose 
An useless life in waiting for to-morrow, 
To gaze with longing eyes upon to-morrow, 
Till interposing death destroys the prospect ! 
Strange ! that this gen'ral fraud from day to day 
Should fill the world with wretches undetected. 
The soldier, lab'ring through a winter's march, 
Still sees to-morrow drest in robes of triumph ; 
Still to the lover's long-expecting arms, 
To-morrow brings the visionary bride. 
But thou, too old to bear another cheat, 
Learn, that the present hour alone is man's.** 






DRAKE. &l 

Aspasia, reprobating the ambition and meditated 
apostacy of Irene, endeavours to reconcile her mind to 
the loss of life, rather than of virtue and religion, and 
bids her 

" Reflect that life and death, affecting sounds ! 
Are only varied modes of endless being; 
Reflect that life, like ev'ry other blessing, 
Derives its value from its use alone ; 
Not for itself, but for a nobler end, 
Th' Eternal gave it, and that end is virtue. 
When inconsistent with a greater good, 
Reason commands to cast the less away ; 
Thus life, with loss of wealth, is well preserved, 
And virtue cheaply saved with loss of life." 

In act the first, scene the second, is a passage which 
has been frequently and justly admired ; it is put into 
the mouth of the Visier Cali, who, execrating the mi- 
series of arbitrary power, alludes to a report which he 
had received, of the nicely balanced structure of the 
British Constitution : — 

" If there be any land, as fame reports, 
Where common laws restrain the prince and subject, 
A happy land, where circulating power 
Flows through each member of th' embodied state ; 
Sure, not unconscious of the mighty blessing, 
Her grateful sons shine bright with ev'ry virtue ; 
Untainted with the lust of innovation, 
Sure all unite to hold her league of rule 
Unbroken as the sacred chain of nature, 
That links the jarring elements in peace." 

(c These are British sentiments," remarks Mr. Mur- 
phy (writing in 1792) : " above forty years ago, they 
found an echo in the breast of applauding audiences ; 
and to this hour they are the voice of the people, in 
defiance of the metaphysics and the new lights of cer- 
tain politicians, who would gladly find their private 

VOL. X. G 



82 JOHNSONIANA. 

advantage in the disasters of their country ; a race of 
men, quibus nulla eoc honesto spes." 

585. Robert Levett, 
The stanzas on the death of this man of great but 
humble utility are beyond all praise. The wonderful 
powers of Johnson were never shown to greater advan- 
tage than on this occasion, where the subject, from its 
obscurity and mediocrity, seemed to bid defiance to 
poetical efforts ; it is, in fact, warm from the heart, and 
is the only poem from the pen of Johnson that has been 
bathed with tears. Would to God, that on every me- 
dical man who attends the poor, the following enco- 
miums could be justly passed ! 

" Well tried through many a varying year, 
See Levett to the grave descend ; 
Officious, innocent, sincere, 

Of ev'ryfiiendless name the friend, 

" When fainting nature call'd for aid, 

And hov'ring death prepared the blow, 
His vig'rous remedy display'd 
The power of art without the show, 

" In Misery's darkest cavern known, 
His useful care was ever nigh, 
Where hopeless Anguish pour'd his groan, 
And lonely Want retired to die," 

How boldly painted, how exquisitely pathetic, as a 
description of the sufferings of human life, is this last 
stanza ! I am acquainted with nothing superior to it 
in the productions of the moral muse. 

586. ee Medea " of Euripides, 
To the English poetry of Johnson, may now be 
added a very beautiful translation of some noble lines 
from the €i Medea' of Euripides. It has escaped all the 



DRAKE. S3 

editors of his works, and was very lately introduced to 
the world in a volume of considerable merit, entitled 
iC Translations from the Greek Anthology, with Tales 
and Miscellaneous Poems.'^ 1 ) A parody, indeed, by our 
author upon this passage of the Grecian poet was pub- 
lished by Mrs. Piozzi ( 2 ), but it is of little value, while 
the following version has preserved all the elegance and 
pathos of the original : — 

" The rites derived from ancient days, 
With thoughtless reverence we praise; 
The rites that taught us to combine 
The joys of music and of wine ; 
That bade the feast, the song, the bowl, 
O'erfill the saturated soul ; 
But ne'er the lute nor lyre applied, 
To soothe Despair or soften Pride, 
Nor call'd them to the gloomy cells 
Where Madness raves and Vengeance swells, 
Where Hate sits musing to betray, 
And Murder meditates his prey. 
To dens of guilt and shades of care, 
Ye sons of melody, repair, 
Nor deign the festive hour to cloy 
With superfluity of joy ; 
The board with varied plenty crown'd 
May spare the luxury of sound." 

587. Rambler and Adventurer. 
As specimens of the style of Johnson, we shall ad- 
duce three quotations, taken from the u Rambler" and 
" Adventurer;" the first on a didactic, the second on a 
moral, and the third on a religious subject ; passages, 
which will place in a very striking light the prominent 
peculiarities and excellencies of the most splendid and 
powerful moralist of which this country can boast. Ani- 

(1) [By Bland and Merivale, 8vo. 1806.] 

(2) [See ante. Vol. IX. p. 22.J 

G 2 



84 johnsoniana. 

mad verting on the necessity of accommodating knowledge 
to the purposes of life, the e( Rambler" thus proceeds : — 

" To lessen that disdain with which scholars are inclined to 
look on the common business of the world, and the unwilling- 
ness with which they condescend to learn what is not to be found 
in any system of philosophy, it may be necessary to consider, 
that though admiration is excited by abstruse researches and 
remote discoveries, yet pleasure is not given, nor affection con- 
ciliated, but by softer accomplishments, and qualities more 
easily communicable to those about us. He that can only con- 
verse upon questions about which only a small part of mankind 
has knowledge sufficient to make them curious, must lose his 
days in unsocial silence, and live in the crowd of life without a 
companion. He that can only be useful in great occasions, may 
die without exerting his abilities, and stand a helpless spectator 
of a thousand vexations which fret away happiness, and which 
nothing is required to remove, but a little dexterity of conduct 
and readiness of expedients. 

" No degree of knowledge attainable by man is able to set him 
above the want of hourly assistance, or to extinguish the desire 
of fond endearments and tender officiousness ; and therefore, no 
one should think it unnecessary to learn those arts by which 
friendship may be gained. Kindness is preserved by a constant 
reciprocation of benefits or interchange of pleasures ; but such 
benefits only can be bestowed as others are capable to receive, 
and such pleasures only imparted as others are qualified to 
enjoy. 

" By this descent from the pinnacles of art no honour will be 
lost ; for the condescensions of learning are always overpaid by 
gratitude. An elevated genius employed in little things, ap- 
pears, to use the simile of Longinus, like the sun in his evening 
declination ; he remits his splendour but retains his magnitude, 
and pleases more though he dazzles less." (*) 

The following passage on the iniquity of revenge, 
and on the meanness of regulating our conduct by the 
opinions of meu, is alike eminent for its style and for 

(1) Rambler, No. 137 



DRAKE. 85 

its sentimenis v . the purest morality is here clothed in 
diction powerfully impressive : — 

" A wise man will make haste to forgive, because he knows 
the true value of time, and will not suffer it to pass away in un- 
necessary pain. He that willingly suffers the corrosions of in- 
veterate hatred, and gives up his days and nights to the gloom 
of malice and perturbations of stratagem, cannot surely be said 
to consult his ease. Resentment is an union of sorrow w r ith 
malignity; a combination of a passion which all endeavour to 
avoid, with a passion which all concur to detest. The man who 
retires to meditate mischief, and to exasperate his own rage ; 
whose thoughts are employed only on means of distress and 
contrivances of ruin; whose mind never pauses from the re- 
membrance of his own sufferings, but to indulge some hope of 
enjoying the calamities of another, may justly be numbered 
among the most miserable of human beings, among those who 
are guilty without reward, who have neither the gladness of 
prosperity nor the calm of innocence. 

u Whoever considers the weakness both of himself and others 
will not long want persuasives to forgiveness. We know not 
to what degree of malignity any injury is to be imputed ; or 
how much its guilt, if we were to inspect the mind of him that 
committed it, would be extenuated by mistake, precipitance, or 
negligence; we cannot be certain how much more we feel than 
was intended to be inflicted, or how much we increase the mis- 
chief to ourselves by voluntary aggravations. We may charge 
to design the effects of accident ; we may think the blow violent 
only because we have made ourselves delicate and tender ; we 
are on every side in danger of error and of guilt, which we are 
certain to avoid only by speedy forgiveness. 

" From this pacific and harmless temper, thus propitious to 
others and ourselves, to domestic tranquillity and to social hap- 
piness, no man is withheld but by pride, by the fear of being 
insulted by his adversary, or despised by the world. 

" It may be laid down as an unfailing and universal axiom, 
that ' all pride is abject and mean.' It is always an ignorant, 
lazy, or cowardly acquiescence in a false appearance of excel- 
lence, and proceeds not from consciousness of our attainments, 
but insensibility of our wants. 

G 3 



86 JOHNSONIANA. 

" Nothing can be great which is not right. Nothing which 
reason condemns can be suitable to the dignity of the human 
mind. To be driven by external motives from the path which 
our own heart approves, to give way to any thing but conviction, 
to suffer the opinion of others to rule our choice or overpower 
our resolves, is to submit tamely to the lowest and most igno- 
minious slavery, and to resign the right of directing our own 
lives. 

" The utmost excellence at which humanity can arrive, is a 
constant and determinate pursuit of virtue without regard to 
present dangers or advantage ; a continual reference of every 
action to the divine will ; an habitual appeal to everlasting jus- 
tice ; and an unvaried elevation of the intellectual eye to the 
reward which perseverance only can obtain. But that pride 
which many, who presume to boast of generous sentiments, 
allow to regulate their measures, has nothing nobler in view 
than the approbation of men ; of beings whose superiority we are 
under no obligation to acknowledge, and who, when we have 
courted them with the utmost assiduity, can confer no valuable 
or permanent reward ; of beings who ignorantly judge of what 
they do not understand, or partially determine what they never 
have examined ; and whose sentence is therefore of no weight, 
till it has received the ratification of our own conscience. 

" He that can descend to bribe suffrages like these at the price 
of his innocence ; he that can suffer the delight of such accla- 
mations to withhold his attention from the commands of the 
universal Sovereign, has little reason to congratulate himself 
upon the greatness of his mind ; whenever he awakes to serious- 
ness and reflection, he must become despicable in his own eyes, 
and shrink with shame from the remembrance of his cowardice 
and folly. 

" Of him that hopes to be forgiven, it is indispensably re- 
quired that he forgive. It is therefore superfluous to urge any 
other motive. On this great duty eternity is suspended ; and 
to him that refuses to practise it the throne of mercy is inac- 
cessible, and the Saviour of the world has been born in 
vain." (l) 



(1) Rambler, No. 185. 



DRAKE. 57 

Admirably, however, as these noble precepts are ex- 
pressed, the specimen that we have next to quote will, 
it is probable, be deemed still superior both in diction 
and imagery. The close is, indeed, one of the most 
exquisite and sublime passages in the works of its elo- 
quent author. Speaking of those who retire from the 
world that " they may employ more time in the duties 
of religion ; that they may regulate their actions with 
stricter vigilance, and purify their thoughts by more 
frequent meditation," he adds, — 

" To men thus elevated above the mists of mortality, I am 
far from presuming myself qualified to give directions. On 
him that appears * to pass through things temporal,' with no 
other care than c not to lose finally the things eternal,' I look 
with such veneration as inclines me to approve his conduct in 
the whole, without a minute examination of its parts; yet I 
could never forbear to wish, that while Vice is every day mul- 
tiplying seducements, and stalking forth with more hardened 
effrontery, Virtue would not withdraw the influence of her pre- 
sence, or forbear to assert her natural dignity by open and un- 
daunted perseverance in the right. Piety practised in solitude, 
like the flower that blooms in the desert, may give its fragrance to 
the winds of heaven, and delight those unbodied spirits that survey 
tlie works of God and the actions of men; but it bestows no assist- 
ance upon earthly beings, and however free from taints of impurity, 
yet wants the sacred splendour of beneficence, (l) 

The publication of the cc Rambler" produced a very 
rapid revolution in the tone of English composition : 
an elevation and dignity, an harmony and energy, a 
precision and force of style, previously unknown in the 
history of our literature, speedily became objects of 
daily emulation ; and the school of Johnson increased 
with such celerity, that it soon embraced the greater 
part of the rising literary characters of the day, and 

'*> a ^vpnturer, No, 126. 



88 JOHNSONIANA. 

was consequently founded on such a basis as will not 
easily be shaken by succeeding modes. 

588. Johnson sketched by Himself. 

The character of Sober in the " Idler/' No. 31., was 
intended by the author as a delineation of himself. 
Johnson was constitutionally idle, nor was he roused to 
any great effort, but by the imperious call of necessity : 
his exertions, indeed, when sufficiently stimulated, were 
gigantic, but they were infrequent and uncertain. He 
was destined to complain of the miseries of idleness, 
and to mitigate his remorse by repeated but too often 
ineffectual resolutions of industry. The portrait which 
he has drawn is faithful and divested of flattery — a 
result not common in autobiography : — 

" Sober is a man of strong desires and quick imagination, 
so exactly balanced by the love of ease, that they can seldom 
stimulate him to any difficult undertaking; they have, however, 
so much power, that they will not suffer him to lie quite at rest, 
and though they do not make him sufficiently useful to others, 
they make him at least weary of himself. 

" Mr. Sober's chief pleasure is conversation ; there is no end 
of his talk or his attention; to speak or to hear is equally pleas- 
ing ; for he still fancies that he is teaching or learning some- 
thing, and is free for the time from his own reproaches. 

" But there is one time at night when he must go home, that 
his friends may sleep ; and another time in the morning, when 
all the world agrees to shut out interruption. These are the 
moments of which poor Sober trembles at the thought. But 
the misery of these tiresome intervals, he has many means of 
alleviating. He has persuaded himself that the manual arts are 
undeservedly overlooked; he has observed in many trades the 
effects of close thought, and just ratiocination. From specula- 
tion he proceeded to practice, and supplied himself with the 
tools of a carpenter, with which he mended his coal-box very 
successfully, and which he still continues to employ as he finds 
occasion< 

"He has attempted at other times the crafts of the shoemaker. 



DnAkB 89 

tinman, plumber, and potter ; in all these arts he has failed, and 
resolves to qualify himself for them by better information. But 
his daily amusement is chemistry. He has a small furnace, 
which he employs in distillation, and which has long been the 
solace of his life. He draws oils, and waters, and essences, and 
spirits, which he knows to be of no use ; sits and counts the 
drops as they come from his retort ; and forgets that whilst a 
drop is falling, a moment flies away. 

" Poor Sober ! I have often teazed him with reproof, and he 
has often promised reformation ; for no man is so much open 
to conviction as the idler, but there is none on whom it operates 
so little. What will be the effect of this paper I know not ; 
perhaps he will read it, and laugh, and light the fire in his 
furnace ; but my hope is, that he will quit his trifles, and betake 
himself to rational and useful diligence." 



589. Horror of Death. 

One of the best written and most impressive of the 
essays of the " Rambler" is No. 78-> on the Power of 
Novelty, in which he appears to have exerted the full 
force of his genius. It is in this paper that the horror 
of Death, which embittered so many of the hours of 
Johnson, is depicted in more vivid colours, than in any 
other part of his periodical writings : — 

" Surely," he remarks, " nothing can so much disturb the 
passions or perplex the intellects of man, as the disruption of 
his union with visible nature ; a separation from all that has 
hitherto delighted or engaged him ; a change not only of the 
place, but the manner, of his being ; an entrance into a state 
not simply which he knows not, but which perhaps he has not 
faculties to know ; an immediate and perceptible communication 
with the Supreme Being, and, what is above all distressful and 
alarming, the final sentence, and unalterable allotment : " — 

a passage which, in its sentiment and tendency, strongly 
reminds us of the admirable description of Claudio in 
the (i Measure for Measure " of Shakspeare : — 



90 JOHNSONIANA. 

" Ay, but to die, and go we know not where ; 
To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot ; 
This sensible warm motion to become 
A kneaded clod ; and the delighted spirit 
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside 
In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice ; 
To be imprison'd in the viewless winds, 
And blown with restless violence round about 
The pendent world ; or to be worse than worst 
Of those, that lawless and incertain thoughts 
Imagine howling ! — 'tis too horrible ! 
The weariest and most loathed worldly life, 
That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment 
Can lay on nature, is a paradise 
To what we fear of death." 

Our author seems likewise to have remembered a 
couplet in the " Aureng-Zebe" of Dryden : — 

" Death in itself is nothing ; but we fear 

To be we know not what, we know not where." 

It is in this paper, also, that one of the few pathetic 
paragraphs which are scattered through the pages of 
Johnson may be found. Whether considered with re- 
gard to its diction or its tender appeal to the heart, it is 
alike exquisite : — 

** It is not possible," observes the moralist, " to be regarded 
with tenderness except by a few. That merit which gives great- 
ness and renown diffuses its influence to a wide compass, but 
acts weakly on every single breast; it is placed at a distance 
from common spectators, and shines like one of the remote 
stars, of which the light reaches us, but not the heat. The wit, 
the hero, the philosopher, whom their tempers ot their fortunes 
have hindered from intimate relations, die, without any other 
effect than that of adding a new topic to the conversation of the 
day. They impress none with any fresh conviction of the fra- 
gility of our nature, because none had any particular interest in 
their lives, or was united to them by a reciprocation of benefits 
and endearments. Thus it often happens, that those who in 



DRAKE. 91 

their lives were applauded and admired, are laid at last in the 
ground without the common honour of a stone ; because by 
those excellencies with which many were delighted, none had 
been obliged, and though they had many to celebrate, they had 
none to love them." 

590. Anningait and Ajut. 
Never was the passion of love, or the assiduities of 
affection, placed in a more entertaining or pleasing light, 
than in the Greenland story of Anningait and Ajut ( ] ) ; 
which, owing to its wild and savage imagery, and the 
felicity with which it is adapted to the circumstances of 
the narrative, possesses the attractions of no ordinary 
share of originality. Mr. Campbell, in his truly sub- 
lime poem on the Pleasures of Hope, has thus beautifully 
alluded to this story : — 

" Oh ! vainly wise, the moral Muse hath sung 
That 'suasive Hope hath but a syren tongue ! 
True ; she may sport with life's untutor'd day, 
Nor heed the solace of its last decay, 
The guileless heart, her happy mansion spurn, 
And part like Ajut — never to return." 

591. Rasselas. 
Many of the topics which are eagerly discussed in 
the History of Rasselas are known to have greatly 
interested, and even agitated, the mind of Johnson. Of 
these the most remarkable are, on the Efficacy of 
Pilgrimage, on the State of Departed Souls, on the 
Probability of the Reappearance of the Dead, and on 
the Danger of Insanity. The apprehension of mental 
derangement seems to have haunted the mind of John- 
son during the greater part of his life ; and he has 
therefore very emphatically declared, that Ci of the un- 
certainties in our present state, the most dreadful and 

(1) Rambler, Nos. 186> 187. 



92 JOHNSONIANA. 

alarming is the uncertain continuance of reason." ( ! ) 
It is highly probable, that his fears and feelings on this 
head gave rise to the character of the Mad Astronomer 
in Rasselas, who declared to Imlac, that he had 
possessed for five years the regulation of the weather, 
and the distribution of the seasons ; that the sun had 
listened to his dictates, and passed from tropic to tropic 
by his direction ; that the clouds at his call had poured 
their waters, and the Nile had overflowed at his com- 
mand. This tremendous visitation he has ascribed 
principally to the indulgence of imagination in the 
shades of solitude : — 

»' Disorders of intellect," he remarks, " happen much more 
often than superficial observers will easily believe. Perhaps, 
if we speak with rigorous exactness, no human mind is in its 
right state. There is no man whose imagination does not some- 
times predominate over his reason, who can regulate his at- 
tention wholly by his will, and whose ideas will come and go at 
his command. No man will be found in whose mind airy 
notions do not sometimes tyrannise, and force him to hope or 
fear beyond the limits of sober probability. All power of fancy 
over reason is a degree of insanity ; but while this power is such 
as we can control and repress, it is not visible to others, nor 
considered as any depravation of the mental faculties : it is not 
pronounced madness but when it becomes ungovernable, and 
apparently influences speech or action. 

" To indulge the power of fiction, and send imagination out 
upon the wing, is often the sport of those who delight too much 
in silent speculation. When we are alone we are not always 
busy; the labour of excogitation is too violent to last long; the 
ardour of inquiry will sometimes give way to idleness or satiety. 
He who has nothing external that can divert him, must find 
pleasure in his own thoughts, and must conceive himself what he 
is not; for who is pleased with what he is? He then expatiates 
in boundless futurity, and culls from all imaginable conditions 
that which for the present moment he should most desire, 



(1) Rasselas, chap. 42. 



DRAKE. 93 

amuses his desires with impossible enjoyments, and confers 
upon his pride unattainable dominion. The mind dances from 
scene to scene, unites all pleasures in all combinations, and 
riots in delights which nature and fortune, with all their bounty, 
cannot bestow. 

" In time, some particular train of ideas fixes the attention ; 
all other intellectual gratifications are rejected; the mind, in 
weariness or leisure, recurs constantly to the favourite con- 
ception, and feasts on the luscious falsehood, whenever she is 
offended with the bitterness of truth. By degrees the reign of 
fancy is confirmed ; she grows first imperious, and in time de- 
spotic. Then fictions begin to operate as realities, false opinions 
fasten upon the mind, and life passes in dreams of rapture or 
of anguish. 

" This, Sir, is one of the dangers of solitude. " (1) 

In the paragraphs which we have just quoted, there 
is much reason to suppose, that Johnson was describing 
what he had himself repeatedly experienced ; and to 
this circumstance Sir John Hawkins has attributed his 
uncommon attachment to society. 

592. Preface to Shakspeare. 

This Preface is perhaps the most eloquent and acute 
piece of dramatic criticism of which our language can 
boast. The characteristic excellencies of Shakspeare, 
his beauties and defects, are delineated with powers of 
discrimination not easily paralleled ; and though the 
panegyric on his genius be high and uncommonly 
splendid, his faults are laid open with an impartial and 
unsparing hand. To the prose encomia of Dryden and 
Addison on our unrivalled bard may be added, as 
worthy of juxtaposition, the following admirable para- 
graph ; the conclusion of which is alike excellent for its 
imagery and sublimity : — 

(1) Rasselas, chap. 43. 



94 JOHNSONIANA. 

M As the personages of Shakspeare act upon principles arising 
from genuine passion, very little modified by particular forms, 
their pleasures and vexations are communicable to all times and 
to all places ; they are natural, and therefore durable ; the ad- 
ventitious peculiarities of personal habits are only superficial 
dyes, bright and pleasing for a little while, yet soon fading to a 
dim tinct, without any remains of former lustre ; and the dis 
crimination of true passion are the colours of nature ; they per 
vade the whole mass, and can only perish with the body that 
exhibits them. The accidental compositions of heterogeneous 
modes are dissolved by the chance that combined them ; but the 
uniform simplicity of primitive qualities neither admits increase 
nor suffers decay. The sand heaped by one flood is scattered 
by another, but the rock always continues in its place. The 
stream of time, which is continually washing the dissoluble fabrics 
of other poets, passes without injury by the adamant of Shak- 
speare." 

593. " Lives of the Poets. 99 

The effect of the critical biography of Johnson on the 
literary world, and on the public at large, has been very 
considerable, and, in many respects, beneficial. It has 
excited a laudable attention to preserve the memory of 
those, who have, by intellectual exertions, contributed 
to our instruction and amusement; whereas, previous 
to the appearance of our author's " Lives/' biography, 
with few exceptions, had been confined to military and 
political characters : it has given rise, also, to much dis- 
cussion and research into the merits and defects of our 
national poets ; and the edition to which it was an- 
nexed, has led the way to several subsequent collection 
on an improved and more extended scale. 

594. Johnsons " Letters/ 9 

The Letters of Johnson place him before us stripped 
of all disguise ; they teach us to love as well as to admire 
the man and are frequently written with a pathos and 



DRAKE. 95 

an ardour of affection, which impress us with a much 
more amiable idea of the writer, than can be drawn 
from any portion of his more elaborated works. 

595* Johnsons Sermons. 

The Sermons of Johnson, twenty-five in number, 
were part of the stock which his friend Dr. Taylor car- 
ried with him to the pulpit. As compositions, they 
are little inferior to any of his best works ; and they 
inculcate, without enthusiasm or dogmatism, the purest 
precepts and doctrines of religion and morality. 

596. "Prayers and Meditations" 

It is in the Prayers and Meditations of Johnson 
that we become acquainted with the inward heart of the 
man. He had left them for publication, under the idea 
that they were calculated to do good ; and depraved, 
indeed, must be that individual who rises unbenefited 
from their perusal. The contrast between the language 
of this little volume, and the style of the Rambler, 
is striking in the extreme, and a strong proof of the 
judgment, the humility, and the piety of the author. 
With a deep sense of human frailty and individual 
error, he addresses the throne of mercy in a strain re- 
markable for its simplicity and plainness ; but which, 
though totally stripped of the decorations of art, pos- 
sesses a native dignity, approaching to that which we 
receive from our most excellent liturgy 



93 JOHNSONlAisA. 



Part XXXIL 



ANECDOTES, OPINIONS, AND REMARKS, 
BY VARIOUS PERSONS. 



597. Osborne knocked down with a Folio. Q) 
Tom Osborne, the bookseller, was one of iC that mer- 
cantile ragged race to which the delicacy of the poet is 
sometimes exposed " ( 2 ) ; as the following anecdote 
will more fully evince. Mr. Johnson being engaged by 
him to translate a work of some consequence, he thought 
it a respect which he owed his own talents, as well as 
the credit of his employer, to be as circumspect in the 
performance of it as possible. In consequence of which, 
the work went on, according to Osborne's ideas, rather 
slowly : in consequence, he frequently spoke to Johnson 
of this circumstance ; and, being a man of a coarse mind, 
sometimes by his expressions made him feel the situation 
of dependence. Johnson, however, seemed to take no 
notice of him, but went on according to the plan which 
he had prescribed to himself. Osborne, irritated by what 
he thought an unnecessary delay, went one day into the 
room where Johnson was sitting, and abused him in the 
most illiberal manner : amongst other things, he told 
Johnson, " he had been much mistaken in his man ; 
that he was recommended to him as a good scholar, and 

(1) [Nos. 596 — 607. are from the " Life of Samuel Johnson, 
LL.D." 8vo., published by G. Kearsley, in 1785. For Bos- 
well's favourable notice of this little work see ante, Vol. VIII. 
p. 44.] 

(2) Johnson's Life of Drvden, 



KEARSLEY. 97 

a ready hand : but he doubted both ; for that Tom 
such-a-one would have turned out the work much 
sooner ; and that being the case, the probability was, 
that by this here time the first edition would have 
moved off." Johnson heard him for some time un- 
moved ; but, at last, losing all patience, he seized a 
huge folio, which he was at that time consulting, and, 
aiming a blow at the bookseller's head, succeeded so 
forcibly, as to send him sprawling to the floor. Osborne 
alarmed the family with his cries ; but Johnson, clap- 
ping his foot on his breast, would not let him stir till 
he had exposed him in that situation ; and then left 
him, with this triumphant expression : " Lie there, 
thou son of dulness, ignorance, and obscurity ! " ( j ) 

598. Savage. 
Johnson was not unacquainted with Savage's frail- 
ties ; but, as he, a short time before his death, said to a 
friend, on this subject, M he knew his heart, and that 
was never intentionally abandoned ; for, though he ge- 
nerally mistook the love for the practice of virtue, he 
was at all times a true and sincere believer/' 

599« Trotter's Portrait of Johnson. 
The head at the front of this book is esteemed a good 
likeness of Johnson ; indeed, so much so, that when 
the Doctor saw the drawing, he exclaimed, " Well, 
thou art an ugly fellow ; but still, I believe thou art 
like the original." The Doctor sat for this picture to 
Mr. Trotter, in February, 1782, at the request of Mr. 
Kearsley, who had just furnished him with a list of all 

(1) ["The identical book with which Johnson knocked 
down Osborne (Biblia Grceca Septuaginta, fol. 1594. Frank- 
fort ; the note written by the Rev. Mills) I saw in February, 

1812, at Cambridge, in the possession of J. Thorpe, bookseller ; 
whose catalogue, since published, contains particulars authen- 
ticating this assertion." — Xiclwls : Lit. Ar*ec % viii. p. 446. 



9S JOHNSONTANA. 

his works ; for he confessed he had forgot more than 
half what he had written. His face, however, was ca- 
pable of great expression, both in respect to intelligence 
and mildness ; as all those can witness who have seen 
him in the flow of conversation, or under the influence 
of grateful feelings. 

600. Hawkesworttis " Ode on Life." 
Sometime previous to Hawkesworth's publication of 
his beautiful " Ode on Life," he carried it down with 
him to a friend's house in the country to retouch. 
Johnson was of this party ; and, as Hawkes worth and 
the Doctor lived upon the most intimate terms, the 
former read it to him for his opinion. " Why, Sir," 
says Johnson, " I can't well determine on a first hear- 
ing ; read it again, second thoughts are best." Hawkes- 
worth did so ; after which Johnson read it himself, and 
approved of it very highly. Next morning at break- 
fast, the subject of the poem being renewed, Johnson, 
after again expressing his approbation of it, said he had 
but one objection to make to it, which was, that he 
doubted its originality. Hawkesworth, alarmed at this, 
challenged him to the proof, when the Doctor repeated 
the whole of the poem, with only the omission of a few 
lines. ei What do you say to that, Hawkey ?" said the 
Doctor. Ci Only this," replied the other, u that I shall 
never repeat any thing I write before you again ; for 
you have a memory that would convict any author of 
plagiarism in any court of literature in the world." I 
have now the poem before me, and I find it contains no 
less than sixty- eight lines. 

601. Projected Dictionary of Commerce. 

Soon after the publication of the English Dictionary, 

Johnson made a proposal to a number of booksellers, 

convened for that purpose, of writing a Dictionary of 

Trade and Commerce. This proposal went round the 



KEARSLEY. 99 

room without any answer, when a well-known son of 
the trade, remarkable for the abruptness of his manners, 
replied, <c Why, Doctor, what the devil do you know 
of trade and commerce ? " The Doctor very modestly 
answered, (C Why, Sir, not much, I must confess, in 
the practical line ; but I believe I could glean, from 
different authors of authority on the subject, such ma- 
terials as would answer the purpose very well." 

602. Johnsons powerful Memory, 
It is not the readiness with which Johnson applied 
to different authors, that proves so much the greatness of 
his memory, as the extent to which he could carry his 
recollection upon occasions. I remember one day, in a 
conversation upon the miseries of old age, a gentleman 
in company observed, he always thought Juvenal's de- 
scription of them to be rather too highly coloured. 
Upon which the Doctor replied, ic No, Sir, I believe 
not ; they may not all belong to an individual, but they 
are collectively true of old age." Then rolling about 
his head, as if snuffing up his recollection, he suddenly 
broke out — 



down to 



" Hie humero, hie lumbis," &c. 



" Et nigra veste senescant.** 



603. Emigration from Scotland, 
The emigration of the Scotch to London being a 
conversation between the Doctor and Foote, the latter 
said he believed the number of Scotch in London were 
as great in the former as the present reign. "No, 
Sir!" said the Doctor, "you are certainly wrong in 
your belief : but I see how you 're deceived ; you can 't 
distinguish them now as formerly, for the fellows all 
come here breeched of late years." 
h 2 



100 JOHNSONIANA. 

604. Mr. Thrale. 
" Pray, Doctor/' said a gentleman to him, "is Mr. 
Thrale a man of conversation, or is he only wise and 
silent?" "'Why, Sir, his conversation does not show 
the minute hand ; but he strikes the hour yery cor- 
rectly." 

60 5. Scotch Gooseberries. 
On Johnson's return from Scotland, a particular 
friend of his was saying, that now he had had a view 
of the country, he was in hopes it would cure him of 
many prejudices against that nation, particularly in re- 
spect to the fruits. c ' Why, yes, Sir," said the Doctor ; 
e( I have found out that gooseberries will grow there 
against a south wall ; but the skins are so tough, that 
it is death to the man who swallows one of them/' 

606. Hunting. 
Being asked his opinion of hunting, he said, ce It was 
the labour of the savages of North America, but the 
amusement of the gentlemen of England." 

607. Mrs, Thrale 's Marriage with Piozzi. 
When Johnson was told of Mrs. Thrale's marriage 
with Piozzi, the Italian singer, he was dumb with sur- 
prise for some moments ; at last, recovering himself, he 
exclaimed with great emotion, "Varium et mutabile 
semper foemina !" 

60 8. Johnson's Dying Advice. 
Johnson was, in every sense of the word, a true and 
sincere believer of the Christian religion. Nor did he 
content himself with a silent belief of those great mys- 
teries by which our salvation is principally effected, but by 
a pious and punctual discharge of all its duties and cere- 



KEARSLEY. — BOOTHBY. 101 

monies. His last advice to his friends was upon this sub- 
ject, and,, like a second Socrates, though under sentence 
of death from his infirmities, their eternal welfare was 
his principal theme. To some he enjoined it with tears 
in his eyes, reminding them, " it was the dying request 
of a friend, who had no other way of paying the large 
obligations he owed them but by this advice." Others 
he pressed with arguments, setting before them, from 
the example of all religions, that sacrifices for sins were 
practised in all ages, and hence enforcing the belief of 
the Son of God sacrificing himself " to be a propitiation, 
not only for our sins, but also for the sins of the whole 
world." 

609. Johnson s Colloquial Eloquence. Q) 

Johnson spoke as he wrote. He would take up a 
topic, and utter upon it a number of the cc Rambler.'' 
On a question, one day, at Miss Porter's, concerning the 
authority of a newspaper for some fact, he related, that 
a lady of his acquaintance implicitly believed every 
thing she read in the papers ; and that, by way of 
curing her credulity, he fabricated a story of a battle 
between the Russians and Turks, then at war; and 
" that it might," he said, (c bear internal evidence of 
its futility, I laid the scene in an island at the conflux 
of the Boristhenes and the Danube ; rivers which run 
at the distance of a hundred leagues from each other. 
The lady, however, believed the story, and never for- 
gave the deception ; the consequence of which was,, 
that I lost an agreeable companion, and she was de- 
prived of an innocent amusement." And he added, as 
an extraordinary circumstance, that the Russian am- 
bassador sent in great haste to the printer to know from 

(1) [Communicated to Dr. Robert Anderson by Sir Brooke 
Boothbv ; who frequently enjoyed the company of Johnson at 
Lichfield and Ashbourne.] 

H S 



102 JOHNSONIANA. 

whence he had received the intelligence. Another time, 
at Dr. Taylor's, a few days after the death of the wife 
of the Rev. Mr. Kennedy, of Bradley, a woman of ex- 
traordinary sense, he described the eccentricities of the 
man and the woman, with a nicety of discrimination, 
and a force of language, equal to the best of his 
periodical essays. 

610. Assertion and Argument. (}) 
In Boswell's Life of Johnson ( 2 ) mention is made of 
an observation of his respecting the manner in which 
argument ought to be rated. As Mr. Boswell has not 
recorded this with his usual precision, and as I was 
present at Mr. Hoole's at the time mentioned by Mr. 
Boswell, I shall here insert what passed, of which 
I have a perfect recollection. Mention having been 
made that counsel were to be heard at the bar of the 
House of Commons, one of the company at Mr. Hoole's 
asked Sir James Johnston if he intended to be present. 
He answered, that he believed he should not, because 
he paid little regard to the arguments of counsel at the 
bar of the House of Commons. "Wherefore do you pay 
little regard to their arguments, Sir ? " said Dr. John- 
son. " Because," replied Sir James, " they argue for 
their fee." " What is it to you ? Sir," rejoined Dr. 
Johnson, " what they argue for ? you have nothing to 
do with their motive, but you ought to weigh their 
argument. Sir, you seem to confound argument with 
assertion, but there is an essential distinction between 
them. Assertion is like an arrow shot from a long 
bow ; the force with which it strikes depends on the 
strength of the arm that draws it. But argument is 
like an arrow from a cross-bow, which has equal force 
whether shot by a boy or a giant." 

(1) [From Dr. John Moore's Life of Smollett.] 

(2) [See ante, Vol. VIII. p. 281.] 



MOORE. — WARNER. 103 

The whole company was struck with the aptness and 
beauty of this illustration ; and one of them said, " That 
is, indeed, one of the most just and admirable illustra- 
tions that I ever heard in my life." " Sir," said Dr. 
Johnson, " the illustration is none of mine — you will 
find it in Bacon." 

6 1 1 • Uttoxeter. — Expiatory Penance. ( ] ) 

During the last visit which the Doctor made to 
Lichfield, the friends with whom he was staying missed 
him one morning at the breakfast- table. On inquiring 
after him of the servants, they understood he had set 
off from Lichfield at a very early hour, without men- 
tioning to any of the family whither he was going. 
The day passed without the return of the illustrious 
guest, and the party began to be very uneasy on his 
account, when, just before the supper-hour, the door 
opened, and the Doctor stalked into the room. A 
solemn silence of a few minutes ensued, nobody daring 
to inquire the cause of his absence, which was at length 
relieved by Johnson addressing the lady of the house in 
the following manner : " Madam, I beg your pardon 
for the abruptness of my departure from your house 
this morning, but I was constrained to it by my con- 
science. Fifty years ago, Madam, on this day, I com- 
mitted a breach of filial piety, which has ever since lain 
heavy on my mind, and has not till this day been 
expiated. My father, you recollect, was a bookseller, 
and had long been in the habit of attending Uttoxeter 
market, and opening a stall for the sale of his books 
during that day. Confined to his bed by indisposition, 
he requested me, this time fifty years ago, to visit the 
market, and attend the stall in his place. But, Madam, 

(1) [From Warner's " Tour through the Northern Counties 
of England," published in 1802. See ante, Vol. VIII. 
p. 378.] 

H 4f 



104 JOHNSONIANA. 

my pride prevented me from doing my duty, and I 
gave my father a refusal. To do away the sin of this 
disobedience, I this day went in a postchaise to Ut- 
toxeter, and going into the market at the time of high 
business, uncovered my head, and stood with it bare an 
hour before the stall which my father had formerly 
used, exposed to the sneers of the standers-by and the 
inclemency of the weather ; a penance by which I trust 
I have propitiated heaven for this only instance, I 
believe, of contumacy toward my father." 

612. Nollekens s Bust of Johnson. (*) 

When Dr. Johnson sat to Mr. Nollekens for his 
bust, he was very much displeased at the manner in 
which the head had been loaded with hair ; which the 
sculptor insisted upon, as it made him look more like 
an ancient poet. The sittings were not very favour- 
able, which rather vexed the artist, who, upon opening 
the street door, a vulgarity he was addicted to, peevishly 
whined, " Now, Doctor, you did say you would give 
my bust half an hour before dinner, and the dinner has 
been waiting this long time." To which the Doctor's 
reply was, t€ Bow, wow, wow." The bust is a wonder- 
fully fine one, and very like ; but certainly the sort of 
hair is objectionable ; having been modelled from the 
flowing locks of a sturdy Irish beggar, originally a 
street pavier, who, after he had sat an hour, refused to 
take a shilling ; stating, that he could have made more 
by begging. 

613. Johnson and Mrs. Thrale in Nollekens 's Studio. 

Mrs. Thrale one morning entered Nollekens's studio, 
accompanied by Dr. Johnson, to see the bust of Lord 

(1) [This and the two following are from " Nollekens and 
his Times, by John Thomas Smith, Keeper of the Prints and 
Drawings in the British Museum." 8vo. 1828.] 



NOLLEKENS. — SMITH. J 0.5 

Mansfield, when the sculptor vociferated, " I like your 
picture by Sir Joshua very much. He tells me it 's for 
Thrale, a brewer over the water : his wife 's a sharp 
woman, one of the blue-stocking people/' " Nolly, 
Nolly," observed the Doctor, " I wish your maid would 
stop your foolish mouth with a blue-bag." At which 
Mrs. Thrale smiled, and whispered to the Doctor, 
" My dear Sir, you'll get nothing by blunting your 
arrows upon a block." 

6 14. Johnson* s Silver Tea-pot. 

I was one morning agreeably surprised by a letter which 
Mrs. Maria Cosway put into my hand, written by W. 
Hoper, Esq., giving me permission to make a drawing 
of Dr. Johnson's silver tea-pot in his possession. Upon 
the side of this tea-pot the following inscription is en- 
graven : " We are told by Lucian, that the earthen 
lamp, which had administered to the lucubrations of 
Epictetus, was at his death purchased for the enormous 
sum of three thousand drachmas : why, then, may not 
imagination equally amplify the value of this unadorned 
vessel, long employed for the infusion of that favourite 
herb, whose enlivening virtues are said to have so often 
protracted the elegant and edifying lucubrations of 
Samuel Johnson ; the zealous advocate of that innocent 
beverage, against its declared enemy, Jonas Hanway ? 
It was weighed out for sale, under the inspection of 
Sir John Hawkins, at the very minute when they 
were in the next room closing the incision through which 
Mr. Cruickshank had explored the ruined machinery of 
its dead master's thorax. So Bray (the silversmith^ 
conveyed there in Sir John's carriage, thus hastily to 
buy the plate,) informed its present possessor, Henry 
Constantine Nowell ; by whom it was, for its celebrated 
services, on the 1st of November, 1788, rescued from 
the indiscriminating obliterations of the furnace." 



106 johnsonia n a. 

615. Johnsons Watch, and Punch-bowl. 
The ensuing is an answer to one of my interrogatory 
epistles. It is from my friend, the Rev. Hugh Pailye, 
canon of Lichfield : — u I certainly am in possession 
of Dr. Johnson's watch, which I purchased from his 
black servant, Francis Barber. His punch-bowl is like- 
wise in my possession, and was purchased by the Rev. 
Thomas Harwood, the historian of Lichfield. It was 
bought at Mrs. Harwood's sale, by John Barker Scott 
Esq., who afterwards presented it to me." 

6l6. Dialogue at Dillys, between Mrs. Knowles and 
Dr. Johnson. Q) 

Mrs. K. Thy friend, Jenny Harry, desires her kind 
respects to thee, Doctor. 

Dr. J. To me ! Tell me not of her ! I hate the 
odious wench for her apostacy : and it is you, Madam, 
who have seduced her from the Christian religion. 

Mrs. K* This is a heavy charge, indeed. I must 
beg leave to be heard in my own defence : and I entreat 
the attention of the present learned and candid company, 
desiring they will judge how far I am able to clear 
myself of so cruel an accusation. 

Dr. J. (much disturbed at this unexpected challenge) 
said, You are a woman, and I give you quarter. 

Mrs. K. I will not take quarter. There is no sex 
in souls ; and, in the present cause, I fear not even Dr. 
Johnson himself. — (' f Bravo ! " was repeated by the 
company, and silence ensued.) 

(1) [See ante, Vol. Vll. p. 142. and 144. ; and p. 15. of this 
volume. " The narrative of Boswell," says Mr. Nichols ( Lit. 
Must., vol. iv. p. 831.), not proving satisfactory to Molly 
Knowles (as she was familiarly styled), she gave the Dialogue 
between herself and the sturdy moralist, in her own manner, 
in the Gent. Mag. vol. lxi. p. 500." In 1805, Mrs. KnowJes 
had it reprinted in a small pamphlet. She died in 1807, at the 
age of eighty.] 



MRS. L. KNOWLES. 107 

Dr. J. Well then. Madam, I persist in my charge, 
that you have seduced Miss Harry from the Christian 
religion. 

Mrs. K. If thou really knewest what were the prin- 
ciples of the Friends, thou wouldst not say she had 
departed from Christianity. But, waving that discus- 
sion for the present, I will take the liberty to observe, 
that she had an undoubted right to examine and to 
change her educational tenets, whenever she supposed 
she had found them erroneous : as an accountable crea- 
ture, it was her duty so to do. 

Dr. J. Pshaw ! pshaw ! — An accountable creature ! 
— Girls accountable creatures ! It was her duty to re- 
main with the church wherein she was educated ; she 
had no business to leave it. 

Mrs. K. What ! not for that which she apprehended 
to be better ? According to this rule, Doctor, hadst 
thou been born in Turkey, it had been thy duty to have 
remained a Mahometan, notwithstanding Christian evi- 
dence might have wrought in thy mind the clearest 
conviction ! and, if so, then let me ask, how would thy 
conscience have answered for such obstinacy at the great 
and last tribunal ? 

Dr. J. My conscience would not have been answer- 
able. 

Mrs. K. Whose, then, would ? 

Dr. J. Why the state, to be sure. In adhering to 
the religion of the state as by law established, our im- 
plicit obedience therein becomes our duty* 

Mrs. K. A nation, or state, having a conscience, is 
a doctrine entirely new to me, and, indeed, a very curious 
piece of intelligence ; for I have always understood that 
a government, or state, is a creature of time only ; be- 
yond which it dissolves, and becomes a nonentity. 
Now, gentlemen, can your imagination body forth this 
monstrous individual, or being, called a state, composed 
of millions of people ? Can you behold it stalking forth 



108 JOHNSONIANA. 

into the next world, loaded with its mighty conscience, 
there to be rewarded or punished, for the faith, opinions, 
and conduct, of its constituent machines called men ? 
Surely the teeming brain of Poetry never held up to 
the fancy so wondrous a personage! {When the laugh 
occasioned by the personification was subsided, the Doctor 
very angrily replied,} 

Dr. J. I regard not what you say as to that matter. 
I hate the arrogance of the wench, in supposing herself 
a more competent judge of religion than those who 
educated her. She imitated you, no doubt ; but she 
ought not to have presumed to determine for herself in 
so important an affair. 

Mrs. K. True, Doctor, I grant it, if, as thou seemest 
to imply, a wench of twenty years be not a moral 
agent. 

Dr. J. I doubt it would be difficult to prove those 
deserve that character who turn Quakers. 

Mrs. K. This severe retort, Doctor, induces me 
charitably to hope thou must be totally unacquainted 
with the principles of the people against whom thou 
art so exceedingly prejudiced, and that thou supposest 
us a set of infidels or deists. 

Dr. J. Certainly, I do think you little better than 
deists. 

Mrs. K. This is indeed strange ; 'tis passing strange, 
that a man of such universal reading and research, has 
not thought it at least expedient to look into the cause 
of dissent of a society so long established, and so con- 
spicuously singular ! 

Dr. J. Not I, indeed ! I have not read your Bar- 
clay's Apology ; and for this plain reason — I never 
thought it worth my while. You are upstart sectaries, 
perhaps the best subdued by a silent contempt. 

Mrs. K. This reminds me of the language of the 
rabbis of old, when their hierarchy was alarmed by the 
increasing influence, force, and simplicity of dawning 



MRS. KNOWLES. 109 

truth, in their high day of worldly dominion. We 
meekly trust, our principles stand on the same solid 
foundation of simple truth ; and we invite the acutest 
investigation. The reason thou givest for not having 
read Barclay's Apology, is surely a very improper one 
for a man whom the world looks up to as a moral philo- 
sopher of the first rank; a teacher, from whom they 
think they have a right to expect much information. 
To this expecting, inquiring world, how can Dr. John- 
son acquit himself, for remaining unacquainted with a 
book translated into five or six different languages, and 
which has been admitted into the libraries of almost 
every court and university in Christendom ! — {Here 
the Doctor grew very angry, still more so at the space of 
time the gentlemen allowed his antagonist wherein to 
make hefr defence ; and his impatience excited Mr. Bos- 
well hllnself in a whisper to say, " I never saw this 
mighty lion so chafed before ! ") 

The Doctor again repeated, that he did not think the 
Quakers deserved the name of Christians. 

Mrs. K. Give me leave, then, to endeavour to convince 
thee of thy error, which I will do by making before 
thee, and this respectable company, a confession of our 
faith. Creeds, or confessions of faith, are admitted by 
all to be the standard whereby we judge of every deno- 
mination of professors. — (To this, every one present 
agreed; and even the Doctor grumbled out his assent.) 

Mrs. K. Well, then, I take upon me to declare, that 
the people called Quakers do verily believe in the Holy 
Scriptures, and rejoice with the most full and reverential 
acceptance of the divine history of facts as recorded 
in the New Testament. That we, consequently, fully 
believe those historical articles summed up in what is 
called the Apostle's Creed, with these two exceptions only, 
to wit, our Saviour's descent into heU, and the resurrec- 
tion of the body. These mysteries we humbly leave just 
as they stand in the holy text ; there being, from that 



HO JOHNSONIANA- 

ground, no authority for such assertion as *s drawn up 
in the Creed. And now, Doctor, canst thou still deny 
to us the honourable title of Christians ? 

Dr. J. Well ! I must own I did not at all sup- 
pose you had so much to say for yourselves. However, 
I cannot forgive that little slut, for presuming to take 
upon herself as she has done. 

Mrs. K. I hope, Doctor, thou wilt not remain unfor- 
giving ; and that you will renew your friendship, and 
joyfully meet at last in those bright regions where pride 
and prejudice can never enter! 

Dr. J. Meet her! I never desire to meet fools any 
where. — {This sarcastic turn of wit was so pleasantly 
received, that the Doctor joined in the laugh : his spleen 
was dissipated; he took his coffee, and became, for the 
remainder of the evening, very cheerful and enter- 
taining,) 

617. Rebuke to a talkative Lady. ( ! ) 
He was one day in conversation with a very talkative 
lady, of whom he appeared to take very little notice. 
iC Why, Doctor, I believe you prefer the company of 
men to that of the ladies/' (( Madam/' replied he, 
" I am very fond of the company of ladies; I like 
their beauty, I like their delicacy, I like their vivacity, 
and I like their silence." 

6*18. Building without a Scaffold. 
Johnson was much pleased with a French expression 
made use of by a lady towards a person whose head 
was confused with a multitude of knowledge, at which 
he had not arrived in a regular and principled way, — 
" II a bdti sans echafaud," — " he has built without his 
scaffold." 

(1) [Anecdotes 617. to 629. were communicated by William 
Seward, Esq., author of " Biographiana," to Isaac Reed, Esq., 
for insertion in the European Magazine. ] 



MR. W. SEWARD. Ill 

619. Love of Literature. 
Dr. Johnson was of opinion that the happiest, as well 
as the most virtuous, persons were to be found amongst 
those who united with a business or profession a love 
of literature. 

620. Marriage — Choice of a Wife. 

He was constantly earnest with his friends^ when 
they had thoughts of marriage, to look out for a re- 
ligious wife. te A principle of honour or fear of the 
world," added he, " will many times keep a man in 
decent order ; but when a woman loses her religion, she, 
in general, loses the only tie that will restrain her ac- 
tions : Plautus, in his Amphytrio, makes Alcmena say 
beautifully to her husband, — 

" Non ego illam mihi dotem duco esse, quae dos dicitur, 
Sed pudicitiam, et pudorem, et sedatum cupidinem, 
Deum metum, parentum amorum, et cognatum concordiam ; 
Tibi morigera, atque ut munifica sim bonis, prosira probis." 

621. " Tired of London:' 

He was once told that a friend of his, who had long 
lived in the metropolis, was about to quit it, to retire 
into the country, as being tired of London : <e Say 
rather, Sir," said Johnson, 6€ that he is tired of life." 

622. Grammar, Writing, and Arithmetic. 

Dr. Johnson was extremely adverse to the present 
foppish mode of educating children, so as to make them 
what foolish mothers call " elegant young men." He 
said to some lady who asked him what she should teach 
her son in early life, " Madam, to read, to write, to 
count ; grammar, writing, and arithmetic ; three things 
which, if not taught in very early life, are seldom or ever 



112 JOHNSONIANA. 

taught to any purpose, and without the knowledge of 
which no superstructure of learning or of knowledge 
can be built." 

623. Hartley on Man. 
Dr. Johnson one day observing a friend of his pack- 
ing up the two volumes of " Observations on Man/' 
written by this great and good man, to take into the 
country, said, i( Sir, you do right to take Dr. Hartley 
with you." Dr. Priestley said of him, " that he had 
learned more from Hartley, than from any book he had 
ever read, except the Bible." 

624. Love of Change. 
The Doctor used to say that he once knew a man of 
so vagabond a disposition, that he even wished, for the 
sake of change of place, to go to the West Indies. He 
set off on this expedition, and the Doctor saw him in 
town four months afterwards. Upon asking him, why 
he had not put his plan in execution, he replied, " I 
have returned these ten days from the West Indies. 
The sight of slavery was so horrid to me, that I could 
on'y stay two days in one of the islands." This man, 
who had once been a man of literature, and a private 
tutor to some young men of consequence, became so ex- 
tremely torpid and careless in point of further inform- 
ation, that the Doctor, when he called upon him one 
day, and asked him to lend him a book, was told by 
him, that he had not one in the house. 

625. Secrecy. 
An ancient had long ago said, " All secrecy is an 
evil." Johnson, in his strong manner, said, " Nothing 
ends more fatally than mysteriousness in trifles : in- 
deed, it commonlv ends in guilt ; for those who begin 
by concealment of innocent things will soon have some- 
thing to hide which they dare not bring to light." 



MR. W. SEWARD. 113 

626. Rochefoucault. 
Johnson used to say of the Due de Rochefoucauld 
that he was one of the few gentlemen writers, of whom 
authors hy profession had occasion to he afraid. 

627. Investment of Money. 
A friend of Johnson, an indolent man, succeeding to 
a moderate sum of money on the death of his father,, 
asked the Doctor how he should lay it out. " Half on 
mortgage," said he, " and half in the funds : you, 
have then/' continued he, " the two best securities for 
it that your country can afford. Take care, however, 
of the character of the person to whom you lend it on 
mortgage ; see that he is a man of exactness and regu- 
larity, and lives within his income. The money in the 
funds you are sure of at every emergency ; it is always 
at hand, and may be resorted to on every occasion." 

628. Book and Author. 
The opinion which Johnson one day expressed to 
Miss Cotterell, that ec the best part of every author is 
generally to be found in his book," he has thus dilated, 
and illustrated by one of the most appropriate similes 
in the English language : — (C A transition from an 
author's book to his conversation is too often like an 
entrance into a large city after a distant prospect : re- 
motely, we see nothing but spires of temples, and tur- 
rets of palaces, and imagine it the residence of splendour, 
grandeur, and magnificence ; but when we have passed 
the gates we find it perplexed with narrow passages, 
disgraced with despicable cottages, embarrassed with 
obstructions, and clouded with smoke." 

629. The Eucharist. 
The learned and excellent Charles Cole having once 
mentioned to him a book lately published on the Sa- 
crament, he replied Ci Sir, I look upon the sacrament 



114 JOHNSONIANA. 

as the palladium of our religion : I hope that no pro- 
fane hands will venture to touch it." 

630. « Life of Lord Lyttelton: 1 — Mr. Pepys. (i) 
I have within these few days received the following 
paragraph in a letter from a friend of mine in Ireland : 
— C( Johnson's Characters of some Poets breathe such 
inconsistency, such absurdity, and such want of taste 
and feeling, that it is the opinion of the Count of Nar- 
bonne ( 2 ), Sir N. Barry, and myself, that Mrs. Mon- 
tagu should expose him in a short publication. He 
deserves it almost as much as Voltaire — if not, LytteU 
toni gratia, do it yourself." I met him some time ago 
at Streatham ( s ), and such a day did we pass in dis- 
putation upon the life of our dear friend Lord Lyttelton, 
as I trust it will never be my fate to pass again ! The 
moment the cloth was removed he challenged me to 
come out (as he called it), and say what I had to object 
to his Life of Lord Lyttelton. This, you see, was a 
call which, however, disagreeable to myself and the 
rest of the company, I could not but obey, and so to it 
we went for three or four hours without ceasing. He 
once observed, that it was the duty of a biographer to 
state all the failings of a respectable character. I never 

(1) From a Letter from Mr. Pepys to Mrs. Montagu, in the 
Montagu MSS., dated August 4. 1781. It shows how very 
violently, and on what slight grounds, the friends of Lord 
Lyttelton resisted Johnson's treatment of him. Now that per- 
sonal feelings have subsided, the readers of the Life will wonder 
at Mr. Pepys's extravagant indignation ; and we have already 
seen {ante, Vol. VII. p. 334. and Vol. VIII. p. 28.), that John- 
son cared so little about the matter, that he was willing that the 
Life should have been written for him, by one of Lord Lyttelton's 
friends. — C. 

(2) Robert Jephson, Esq., author of " Braganza" and the 
" Count de Narbonne" — see ante, Vol. III. p. 90., where there 
seems reason to believe that Johnson ancj. Mr. Jephson were no 
great friends. He died in 1803 C. 

(3) [See ante, Vol. IX. p. 49.] 



PEPYS. 115 

longed to do any thing so much as to assume his own 
principle, and go into a detail which I could suppose 
his biographer might, in some future time, think neces- 
sary ; but I contented myself with generals. He took 
great credit for not having mentioned the coarseness of 
Lord Lyttelton s manners. I told him, that if he 
would insert that Q) in the next edition, I would ex- 
cuse him all the rest. We shook hands, however, at 
parting ; which put me much in mind of the parting be- 
tween Jaques and Orlando — i God be with you ; let 
us meet as seldom as we can ! Fare you well ; I hope 
we shall be better strangers ! ' ( 2 ) We have not met 
again till last Tuesday, and then I must do him the 
justice to say, that he did all in his power to show me 
that he was sorry for the former attack. But what 
hurts me all this while is, not that Johnson should go 
unpunished, but that our dear and respectable friend 
should go down to posterity with that artful and studied 
contempt thrown upon his character which he so little 
deserved, and that a man who (notwithstanding the 
little foibles he might have) was in my opinion one of 
the most exalted patterns of virtue, liberality, and be- 
nevolence, not to mention the high rank which he held 
in literature, should be handed down to succeeding 
generations under the appellation of poor Lyttelton ! 
This, I must own, vexes and disquiets me whenever I 

( 1 ) On the principle — 

" Quis tulerit Gracchos de teditione querentes " — 

Pepys thought, justly enough, that a charge of coarseness of 
manners made by Johnson against Lord Lyttelton would be so 
ridiculous as to defeat all the rest of his censure. — C. 

(2) [" Now," says Dr. Johnson, the moment he was gone, 
11 is Pepys gone home hating me, who love him better than 1 did 
before : he spoke in defence of his dead friend % but though I 
hope / spoke better who spoke against him, yet all my eloquence 
will gam me nothing but an honest man for my enemy." — 
Piozzi, see ante, Vol. IX. p. 49.] 

J 2 



116 JOHNSONIANA. 

think of it; and had I the command of half your 
powers, tempered as they are with that true moderation 
and justice, he should not sleep within his silent grave, 
I do not say unrevenged (because that is not what I 
wish) but unvindicatedj and unrescued from that con- 
tempt which has been so industriously and so injuri- 
ously thrown upon him." 

631. Blue Stocking Parties, ( J ) 

Nothing could be more agreeable, nor indeed more 
instructive, than these parties. Mrs. Vesey had the 
almost magic art of putting all her company at their 
ease, without the least appearance of design. Here 
was no formal circle, to petrify an unfortunate stranger 
on his entrance ; no rules of conversation to observe ; 
no holding forth of one to his own distress, and the 
stupefying of his audience ; no reading of his works by 
the author. The company naturally broke into little 
groups, perpetually varying and changing. They 
talked or were silent, sat or walked about, just as they 
pleased. Nor was it absolutely necessary even to talk 
sense. There was no bar to harmless mirth and gaiety : 
and while perhaps Dr. Johnson in one corner held 
forth on the moral duties, in another, two or three 
young people might be talking of the fashions and the 
Opera ; and in a third, Lord Orford (then Mr. Horace 
Walpole) might be amusing a little group around him 
with his lively wit and intelligent conversation. Now 
and then perhaps Mrs. Vesey might call the attention 
of the company in general to some circumstance of news, 
politics, or literature, of peculiar importance; or per- 
haps to an anecdote, or interesting account of some 
person known to the company in general. Of this 
last kind a laughable circumstance occurred about the 

(1 ) [This and the following are from Pennington's " Memoirs 
of Mrs. Carter."] 



PENNINGTON. — CARTER. 117 

year 1778, when Mrs. Carter was confined to her bed 
with a fever, which was thought to be dangerous. She 
was attended by her brother-in-law, Dr. Douglas, then 
a physician in Town, and he was in the habit of 
sending bulletins of the state of her health to her most 
intimate friends, with many of whom he was well ac- 
quainted himself. At one of Mrs. Vesey's parties a 
note was brought to her, which she immediately saw was 
from Dr. Douglas. <e Oh ! " said she, before she opened 
it, " this contains an account of our dear Mrs. Carter. 
We are all interested in her health : Dr. Johnson., pray 
read it out for the information of the company." There 
was a profound silence ; and the Doctor, with the ut- 
most gravity, read aloud the physician's report of the 
happy effect which Mrs. Carter's medicines had pro- 
duced, with a full and complete account of the circum- 
stances attending them. 

632. Mrs. Carter on Johnsons Death. 
I see by the papers (says Mrs. Carter, in a letter to 
Mrs. Montagu), that Dr. Johnson is dead. In extent 
of learning, and exquisite purity of moral writing, he 
has left no superior, and I fear very few equals. His 
virtues and his piety were founded on the steadiest of 
Christian principles and faith. His faults, I firmly 
believe, arose from the irritations of a most suffering 
state of nervous constitution, which scarcely ever al- 
lowed him a moment's ease. You wonder iC that an 
undoubted believer and a man of piety should be afraid 
of death ;" but it is such characters who have ever the 
deepest sense of their imperfections and deviations from 
the rule of duty, of which the very best must be con- 
scious ; and such a temper of mind as is struck with awe 
and humility at the prospect of the last solemn sentence 
appears much better suited to the wretched deficiencies 
of the best human performances than the thoughtless 
security that rushes undisturbed into eternity. — To 
i 3 



118 JOHNSONIANA. 

this passage the editor of Mrs. Carter's Letters sub- 
joins : — " Mrs. Carter informed the editor, that in one 
of the last conversations which she had with this emi- 
nent moralist, she told him that she had never known 
him say any thing contrary to the principles of the 
Christian religion. He seized her hand with great 
emotion, exclaiming, 5 You know this, and bear witness 
to it when I am gone ! ' " 

633. Johnson and Cooce. ( l ) 
When I was last (says Lord Chedworth) in town 
I dined in company with the eminent Mr. C. ( 2 ), of 
whom I did not form a high opinion. He asserted, 
that Dr. Johnson originally intended to abuse C( Paradise 
Lost," but being informed that the nation would not 
bear it, he produced the critique which now stands 
in the " Life of Milton," and which he admitted to 
be excellent. I contended that Dr. Johnson had there 
expressed his real opinion, which no man was less 
afraid of delivering than Dr. Johnson ; that the cri- 
tique was written con amove ; and that the work was 
praised with such a glow of fondness, and the grounds 
of that praise were so fully and satisfactorily unfolded, 
that it was impossible Dr. Johnson should not have 
felt the value of the work, which he had so liberally 
and rationally commended. It came out afterwards 
that Dr. Johnson had disgusted Mr. C. He had 
supped at Thrale's one night, when he sat near the 
upper end of the table, and Dr. Johnson near the 
lower end; and having related a long story which had 
very much delighted the company, in the pleasure re- 
sulting from which relation Dr. Johnson had not (from 

(1) [From Lord Chedworth's Letters to the Rev. Mr. 
Crompton.} 

(2) Mr. Crompton informs me, that this was the Rev, William 
Coxe, who had recently published his travels, — C. 



CHEDWOKTH. — WARNER. 119 

Ids deafness and the distance at which he sat) par- 
ticipated, Mrs. Thrale desired him to retell it to the 
Doctor. C. complied, and going down to the bottom 
of the table, bawled it over again in Dr. Johnson's ear : 
when he had finished, Johnson replied, iC So, Sir, and 
this you relate as a good thing : " at which C. fired. 
He added to us, Ci Now, it was a good thing, because it 
was about the King of Poland." Of the value of the 
story, as he did not relate it, I cannot judge ; but I am 
sure you will concur with me that it was not therefore 
necessarily a good thing because it was about a king. I 
think Johnson's behaviour was indefensibly rude ; but, 
from the sample I had of C.'s conversation, I am led to 
suspect that Johnson's censure was not unfounded. 

634. Biography. ( j ) 

Mr. Fowke's ( 2 ) conversation was sprightly and en- 
tertaining, highly seasoned with anecdotes, many of 
which related to his great and venerable friend Dr. 
Johnson ; among these, he was accustomed to relate the 
following : — Mr. Fowke once observed to Dr. Johnson, 
that, in his opinion, the Doctor's strength lay in writing 
biography, in which line of composition he infinitely ex- 
ceeded all his competitors. Ci Sir," said Johnson, <c I 
believe that is true. The dogs don't know how to 
write trifles with dignity." 

635. Colley Gibber. 

Speaking of the difficulty of getting information for 
the c: Lives of the Poets," he said, that when he was 
young, and wanted to write the " Life of Dry-den," he 
desired to be introduced to Colley Cibber, from whom 

(1) [Xos. 634. and 635. are from u Original Letters; edited 
by R. Warner, of Bath, 1803."] 

(2) [See ante, Vol. VI. pp. 136. and 140., and^o^, p. 254."] 

I 4 



120 JOHNSONIANA. 

he expected to procure many valuable materials for his 
purpose. " So, Sir/' said Johnson to Cibber, ce I find 
you know Mr. Dryden ? " " Know him ? O Lord! I was 
as well acquainted with him as if he had been my own 
brother." " Then you can tell me some anecdotes of 
him ? " Ci O yes, a thousand ! Why, we used to 
meet him continually at a club at Button's. I remember 
as well as if it were but yesterday, that when he came 
into the room in winter time, he used to go and sit 
close by the fire in one corner ; and that in summer 
time he would always go and sit in the window." 
iC Thus, Sir," said Johnson, " what with the corner of 
the fire in winter, and the window in summer, you see 
that I got much information from Gibber, of the man- 
ners and habits of Dryden." ( J ) 

636. Family Prayers. ( 2 ) 

During Dr. Johnson's visit to Oxford in June, 1784, 
his friend Dr. Adams expressed an earnest wish that he 
would compose some family prayers ; upon which 
Johnson replied : ee I will not compose prayers for you, 
Sir, because you can do it for yourself; but I have 
thought of getting together all the books of prayers 
which I could, selecting those which should appear to 
me the best, putting out some, inserting others, adding 
some prayers of my own, and prefixing a discourse 
on Prayer." ( 3 ) By the following MS., Dr. Johnson 
appears to have put to paper some preparatory notes 
on this subject : — 

" Preces 

Against the incursion of evil thoughts. 

Repentance and pardon. — Laud, 

(1) [For Boswell's version of this story, see ante, Vol. VI, 
p. 193.] 

(2) [From the Anderdon MSS.] 

(3) [See ante, Vol. VII. p. 296.] 



NOTES ON PRAYER. BURKE. 121 

In disease. 

On the loss of friends — by death ; by his own fault 

or friend's. 

On the unexpected notice of the death of others. 

Prayer generally recommendatory ; 

To understand their prayers ; 

Under dread of death ; 

Prayer commonly considered as a stated and temporary 
duty — performed and forgotten — without any effect on the 
following day. 

Prayer — a vow. — Taylor, 

Scepticism caused by 

1. Indifference about opinions. 

2. Supposition that things disputed are disputable. 

3. Demand of unsuitable evidence. 

4. False judgment of evidence. 

5. Complaint of the obscurity of Scripture. 

6. Contempt of fathers and of authority. 

7. Absurd method of learning objections first. 

8. Study not for truth but vanity. 

9. Sensuality and a vicious life. 

10. False honour, false shame. 

11. Omission of prayer and religious exercises. — Oct. 31. 
1784." 

637. Burke and Johnson. Q) 
In the vicissitudes of twenty-seven years, no estrange- 
ment occurred to interrupt their mutual admiration and 
regard. Burke followed Johnson to the grave as a 
mourner; and in contemplating his character, applied 
to it a fine passage from Cicero, which might equally suit 
his own : — Intentum enim animum quasi arcum habe- 
bat, nee languescens succumbebat senectuti. When some 
one censured Johnson's general rudeness in society, he 
replied with equal consideration and truth, " It is well, 
when a man comes to die, if he has nothing worse to 
accuse himself of than some harshness in conversation." 

(1 ) [From " Prior's Life of Burke."] 



122 JOHNSONIANA. 

638. Savage. — Boswell. ( ! ) 
" Savage," said Dr. Adam Smith, " was but a 
worthless fellow; his pension of fifty pounds never 
lasted him above a few days. As a sample of his 
economy, you may take a circumstance that Johnson 
himself told me. It was, at that period, fashionable 
to wear scarlet cloaks trimmed with gold lace: the 
Doctor met him one day, just after he had received 
his pension, with one of these cloaks upon his back, 
while, at the same time, his naked toes were peeping 
through his shoes/' — u Boswell was my relative by his 
mother, who was a daughter of Colonel Erskine, of 
the Alva family, descended from our common ancestor, 
John Earl of Marr, governor to Henry Prince of Wales, 
and Lord Treasurer of Scotland. In consequence of 
a letter he wrote me I desired him to call at Mr. 
Pitt's, and took care to be with him when he was in- 
troduced. Mr. Pitt was then in the Duke of Grafton's 
house in Great Bond Street. Boswell came in the 
Corsican dress and presented a letter from Paoli. Lord 
Chatham smiled, but received him very graciously in his 
pompous manner. Boswell had genius, but wanted 
ballast to counteract his whim. He preferred being a 
showman to keeping a shop of his own." (Endorsed on 
a letter from Boswell to Lord Buchan, dated Jan. 5. 
1767.) 

639. " A respectable Man." ( 2 ) 
Mr. Barclay, from his connection with Mr. Thrale, 
had several opportunities of meeting and conversing 
with Dr. Johnson. On his becoming a partner in the 

(1) [From the Buchan MSS., in the possession of Mr. Up- 
cott.] 

(2) [This and the two following were communicated to Mr. 
Markland, by Robert Barclay, Esq., of Bury Hill, Dorking. 
This excellent man died in 1831.] 



BARCLAY. — COLE. 123 

brewery, Johnson advised him not to allow his com- 
mercial pursuits to divert his attention from his 
studies. " A mere literary man/' said the Doctor, " is 
a dull man ; a man who is solely a man of business 
is a selfish man ; but when literature and commerce are 
united, they make a respectable man." Q) 

640. Johnson at Mr. Thrales. 

Mr. Barclay had never observed any rudeness or vio- 
lence on the part of Johnson. He has seen Boswell lay 
down his knife and fork, and take out his tablets, in 
order to register a good anecdote. When Johnson 
proceeded to the dining-room, one of Mr. Thr ale's ser- 
vants handed him a wig of a smarter description than 
the one he wore in the morning ; the exchange took 
place in the hall, or passage. Johnson, like many other 
men, was always in much better humour after dinner 
than before, 

641. " An old Mans Blessing." 

Mr. Barclay saw Johnson ten days before he died, 
when the latter observed, " That they should never 
meet more. Have you any objection to receive an old 
man's blessing ? " Mr. Barclay knelt down, and John- 
son gave him his blessing with great fervency. 

642. " Honest Whigs." 

The following scrap is picked out of Cole's volumi- 
nous collections in the British Museum. It appears 
in the shape of a note to his transcript of a Tour 
through England, in 1735, written by John Whaley, 
Fellow of King's College, Cambridge. Mr. Whaley 
says : " October 3., being the day of swearing in the 

(1) [This advice will be found to accord pretty closely with 
Johnson's epitaph on Mr. Thrale : — " Domi inter mille mer- 
canturae negotia, literarum elegantiam minime neglexit." — - 
Markland. J 



124 JOHNSON! ANA.. 

mayor of Shrewsbury, we were invited by Sir Richard 
Corbet, the new mayor, to dinner ; which we did with 
much pleasure, as rinding a large collection of honest 
Whigs met together in Shropshire." Cole writes on this : 
— " A very extraordinary meeting truly ! I was told 
by Mr. Farmer, the present master of Emanuel College, 
that he, being in London last year [1774] with Mr. 
Arnold, tutor in St. John's College, was desired to in- 
troduce the latter, who had been bred a Whig, to the 
acquaintance of the very learned and sensible Dr. 
Samuel Johnson. They had not been long together, 
before (the conversation leading to it) the Doctor, ad- 
dressing himself to Mr. Arnold, said, cc Sir ! you are 
a young man, but I have seen a great deal of the world, 
and take it upon my word and experience, that where 
you see a Whig, you see a rascal ! " Mr. Farmer said, 
he was startled, and rather uneasy, that the Doctor had 
expressed himself so bluntly, and was apprehensive that 
Mr. Arnold might be shocked and take it ill. But they 
laughed it off, and were very good company. I have 
lived all my life among this faction, and am in general 
much disposed to subscribe to the Doctor's opinion. 
Whatever this honest collection of Salopian Whigs 
may have been on the whole, I am as well satisfied, as 
of any thing I know, that there was one rascal, duly 
and truly, in the company. — W, Cole, June 26. 1775." 

64<3. Johnson and Foote. ( ! ) 
Johnson and Foote, though both men of wit and 
strong sense, showed these qualities in different ways. 
The first was grave and sarcastical ; the other was the 
meteor of the moment, who possessed every species of 
wit and humour, and could command them at will. 
Johnson never condescended to be the buffoon, and was 

(l) [This and the two following are from Cooke's " Life of 
Foote," 3 vols. 12mo. 1805.] 



COOKE. 125 

not always ready at retort. Foote never failed; and 
rather than be out of laugh, could put on the motley 
coat with pleasure, and strut in it with as much pride 
as in his most refined sallies of conversation. This 
contrariety of talent and inclinations kept these two 
geniuses from a personal acquaintance for a long time, 
though they perfectly understood each other's character, 
and associated occasionally with the common friends of 
both. 

644. Johnsons Recitation of Poetry, 
Dr. Johnson read serious and sublime poetry with 
great gravity and feeling. In the recital of prayers 
and religious poems he was awfully impressive, and his 
memory served him upon those occasions with great 
readiness. One night at the club, a person quoting the 
nineteenth psalm, the Doctor caught fire ; and, instantly 
taking off his hat, began with great solemnity, — 

" The spacious firmament on high," &c. 

and went through that beautiful hymn. Those who 
were acquainted with the Doctor, knew how harsh his 
features in general were ; but, upon this occasion, to 
use the language of Scripture, " his face was almost as 
if it had been the face of an angel." 

64*5. Johnson in Garrick's Library. 
On Garrick's showing Johnson a magnificent library 
full of books in most elegant bindings, the Doctor 
began running over the volumes in his usual rough and 
negligent manner ; which was, by opening the book so 
wide as almost to break the back of it, and then flung 
them down one by one on the floor with contempt. 
^^"Zounds," said Garrick, " why, what are you about ? 
you'll spoil all my books." t€ No, Sir," replied John- 
son, u I have done nothing but treat a pack of silly 
plays in fops' dresses just as they deserve ; but I see no 
books. 1 * 



126 JOHNSONIANA. 

6&6. Johnson at Langton in 1764. (*) 
In early life (says Mr. Best) I knew Bennet Langton, 
of that ilk, as the Scotch say. With great personal 
claims to the respect of the public, he is known to that 
public chiefly as a friend of Johnson. He was a very 
tall, meagre, long-visaged man, much resembling a stork 
standing on one leg, near the shore, in Raphael's cartoon 
of the miraculous draught of fishes. His manners were 
in the highest degree polished ; his conversation mild, 
equable, and always pleasing. I formed an intimacy 
with his son, and went to pay him a visit at Langton. 
After breakfast we walked to the top of a very steep 
hill behind the house. When we arrived at the summit, 
Mr. Langton said, " Poor, dear Dr. Johnson, when he 
came to this spot, turned to look down the hill, and 
said he was determined e to take a roll down/ When 
we understood what he meant to do, we endeavoured to 
dissuade him ; but he was resolute, saying, * he had 
not had a roll for a long time ;' and taking out of his 
lesser pockets whatever might be in them — keys, 
pencil, purse, or pen-knife, and laying himself parallel 
with the edge of the hill, he actually descended, turning 
himself over and over till he came to the bottom." The 
story was told with such gravity, and with an air of 
such affectionate remembrance of a departed friend, 
that it was impossible to suppose this extraordinary 
freak of the great lexicographer to have been a fiction 
or invention of Mr. Langton. ( 2 ) 

647. Dr. Dodd. ( 3 ) 
Miss Seward, her father (the editor of Beaumont 
and Fletcher, &c), the Rev. R. G.Robinson of Lichfield, 

(1) [From " Personal and Literary Memorials," 8vo. 1829.] 

(2) [Johnson at the time of his visit to Langton was in his 
lifty-fifth year.] 

(3) [This and the following have been communicated by the 
Rev. Hastings Robinson, Rector of Great Worley, Essex.] 



ROBINSON. 127 

and Dr. Johnson, were passing the day at the palace at 
Lichfield, of which Mr. Seward was the occupier. The 
conversation turned upon Dr. Dodd, who had been re- 
cently executed for forgery. ( ] ) It proceeded as fol- 
lows. Miss Seward. " I think, Dr. Johnson, you 
applied to see Mr. Jenkinson in -his behalf/' Johnsox, 
" Why, yes, Madam ; I knew it was a man having no 
interest, writing to a man who had no interest; but I 
thought with myself, when Dr. Dodd comes to the place 
of execution, he may say, ' Had Dr. Johnson written 
in my behalf, I had not been here, and (with great 
emphasis) I could not bear the thought I" ( 2 ) Miss 
Seward. <c But, Dr. Johnson, would you have par- 
doned Dr. Dodd ? " Johnson. <c Madam, had I been 
placed at the head of the legislature, I should certainly 
have signed his death-warrant ; though no law, either 
human or divine, forbids our deprecating punishment, 
either from ourselves or others." 

648. « Heerdor Hard? 3 ' 
In one of his visits to Lichfield, Dr. Johnson called 
upon Mrs. Gastrell of Stowe, near that city. She opened 
the Prayer-book, and pointed out a passage, with the 
wish that he would read it. He began, " We have 
heard (heerd) with our ears" — she stopped him, saying, 
" Thank you, Doctor ! you have read all I wish. I 
merely wanted to know whether you pronounced that 
word heerd or hard." " Madam/' he replied, " heard" 
is nonsense ; there is but one word of that sound (hard) 
in the language." 

(1) [Dr. Dodd was executed June 27. 1777; and Dr. John- 
son left town for Lichfield on the latter end of the following 
month.] 

(2) [For Dr. Johnson's letter to the Right Honourable 
Charles Jenkinson, afterwards Earl of Liverpool, see ante, 
Vol. VI. p. 282.] 



123 JOHNSONIANA. 



649. Johnsons Willow. (!) 
This remarkable tree has been long distinguished as 
a favourite object of Dr. Johnson, and which he never 
failed to examine, whenever, after his settlement in the 
metropolis, he revisited his native city. The great size 
it had attained at that period, and its delightful situa- 
tion between the cathedral and the beautiful vale of 
Stowe, rendered it likely to attract notice ; and, from 
the attachment shown to it by the Doctor, it has ever 
since been regarded as little inferior in celebrity to 
Shakspeare's Mulberry, or the Boscobel Oak, and spe- 
cimens of its wood have been worked into vases and 
other ornaments. In 1815, a great portion of the tree 
gave way, and since then several very large boughs have 
fallen. The Doctor once took an admeasurement of the 
tree with a piece of string, assisted by a little boy, 
to whom he gave half a crown for his trouble. The 
dimensions of the willow in 17^1, when in its most 
flourishing condition, taken by Dr. Trevor Jones, and 
communicated in a letter to Dr. Johnson, are as fol- 
lows : — " The trunk rises to the height of twelve feet 
eight inches, and is then divided into fifteen large as- 
cending branches, which, in very numerous and crowded 
subdivisions, spread at the top in a circular form, not 
unlike the appearance of a shady oak, inclining a little 
towards the east. The circumference of the trunk at 
the bottom is sixteen feet, in the middle eleven feet, 
and at the top, immediately below the branches, thirteen 
feet. The entire height of the tree is forty-nine feet, 
overshadowing a plain not far short of four thousand 
feet/' ( 2 ) 

(1) [Nos. 649 — 655. are from the Gentleman's Magazine.] 

(2) [For a drawing of this willow, see Shaw's Staffordshire, 
and Gent. Mag. Vol. LV. ] 



JOHNSONIANA. 129 

650, Citations from Garrick. 
Boswell relates (says a correspondent), that Garrick 
being asked by Johnson what people said of his Dic- 
tionary, told him, that among other animadversions, it 
was objected that he cited the authorities which were 
beneath the dignity of such a work, and mentioned 
Richardson. " Nay," said Johnson, " I have done 
worse than that; I have cited thee, David." This 
anecdote induced me to turn over the leaves of his Dic- 
tionary, that I might note the citations from each writer. 
Two only I found from Garrick, viz. 

" Our bard 's a fabulist, and deals in fiction. 

" I know you all expect, from seeing me, 
Some formal lecture, spoke with prudish face." 

The quotations from Richardson are at least eighty in 
number ; almost all from his Clarissa. 

651. Johnsonian Words. 
In Rett's " Elements of General Knowledge," I read 
(says another correspondent) as follows : — " Our liter- 
ature, indeed, dates a new era from the publication of 
Johnson's Works : many of his words are rarely to be 
met with in former writers, and some are purely of his 
own fabrication. Note, — ' Resuscitation, orbity, volant, 
fatuity, divaricate, asinine, narcotic, vulnirary, empi- 
reumatic, obtund, disruption, sensory, cremation, hor- 
ticulture, germination, decussation, eximious/ &c. If 
these words be not peculiarly Johnson's, I know not 
where they are to be found ! " Now, upon turning 
over Johnsons Dictionary, I find all the above words 
occur in Pope, Bacon, Wilkins, Milton, Arbuthnot, 
Grew, Quincy, Wiseman, Harvey, Woodward, Newton, 
Glanville, and Ray ; except horticulture, which may be 
found in Tusser's Husbandry ; eximious, in Lodge's 
Letters ; and cremation, for which, at present, I have no 
authority. So much for the research of Mr. Kett ! 

VOL. X. K 



130 JOHNSONIANA. 

652. " Prayers and Meditations" 
The brightest feature in Johnson's character was 
the perfect consciousness of his failings. This the 
Doctor seems to have had in the nicest degree : it 
always accompanied him, and, joined to his irresolution, 
embittered many of his days and nights. If the 
publication of his Prayers and Meditations still wants 
to be justified, let it be on this score, that they prove 
Johnson to have been a man whose inward struggles were 
always directed to overcome habits of which he was 
painfully conscious ; that he did not seek to excuse 
those failings by the delusions of scepticism or sophistry, 
but that he prayed, resolved, and earnestly contended 
against them. What more have the greatest and best 
men in all ages done, though, perhaps, with better 
success? Q) 

(1) This and the following prayer are not in Mr. Strahan's 
collection : — 

" Easter-day, 15th April, 1759. 

" Almighty and most merciful Father, look down with pity upon tny 
sins. I am a sinner, good Lord ; "but let not my sins burthen me for ever. 
Give me thy grace to break the chain of evil custom. Enable me to shake 
off idleness and sloth : to will and to do what thou hast commanded, grant 
me chaste in thoughts, words, and actions ; to love and frequent thy wor- 
ship, to study and understand thy word ; to be diligent in my calling, that 
I may support myself and relieve others. 

" Forgive me, O Lord, whatever my mother has suffered by my fault, 
whatever I have done amiss, and whatever duty I have neglected. Let 
me not sink into useless dejection ; but so sanctify my affliction, O Lord, 
that I may be converted, and healed; and that, by the help of thy Holy 
Spirit, I may obtain everlasting life through Jesus Christ our Lord. 

" And, O Lord, so far as it may be lawful, I commend unto thy fatherly 
goodness my father, brother, wife, and mother, beseeching thee to make 
them happy for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen." 

" SCRUPLES. 

" O Lord, who wouldst that all men should be saved, and who knowest 
that without thy grace we can do nothing acceptable to thee, have mercy 
upon me. Enable me to break the chain of my sins, to reject sensuality in 
thought, and to overcome and suppress vain scruples ; and to use such 
diligence in lawful employment as may enable me to support myself and 
do good to others. O Lord, forgive me the time lost in idleness ; pardon 
the sins which I have committed, and grant that 1 may redeem the time 
mispent, and be reconciled to thee by true repentance, that I may live and 
die in peace, and be received to everlasting happiness. Take not from me, 
O Lord, thy Holy Spirit, but let me have support *nd comfort for Jesus 
Christ's sake. Amen. 

" Tran.sc. June 26. 1768. Of this prayer there is no date, nor can I con- 
jecture when it was composed." 



CHALMERS. 131 

653. " Ocean" 

A gentleman once told Dr. Johnson, that a friend of 
his, looking into the Dictionary which the Doctor had 
lately published, could not find the word ocean. " Not 
find ocean !" exclaimed our Lexicographer ; " Sir, I 
doubt the veracity of your information !" He instantly 
stalked into his library; and, opening the work in ques- 
tion with the utmost impatience, at last triumphantly 
put his finger upon the subject of research, adding, 
tf There, Sir ; there is ocean ! " The gentleman was 
preparing to apologise for the mistake ; but Dr. John- 
son good-naturedly dismissed the subject, with " Never 
mind it, Sir; perhaps your friend spells ocean with 
an s." 

654. Johnsons " Limce labor.*' 

[From Alexander Chalmers' Historical and Biographical Preface to 
The Rambler : British Essayists, voL xvii.] 

The general opinion entertained by Dr. Johnson's 
friends was, that he wrote as correctly and elegantly in 
haste, and under various obstructions of person and 
situation, as other men can, who have health, and ease, 
and leisure for the limce labor. Mr. Boswell says, with 
great truth, that " posterity will be astonished when 
they are told, upon tbe authority of Johnson himself, 
that many of these discourses, which we should suppose 
had been laboured with all the slow attention of literary 
leisure, were written in haste as the moment pressed, 
without even being read over by him before they were 
printed." And Sir John Hawkins informs us, that these 
essays hardly ever underwent a revision before they 
were sent to the press ; and adds, u the original manu- 
scripts of the ' Rambler ' have passed through my 
hands, and hy the perusal of them I am warranted to 
say, as was said of Shakspeare by the players of his 
time, that he never blotted a line, and I believe without 



132 JOHNSONIANA. 

the risk of that retort which Ben Jonson made to 
them, ' Would he had blotted out a thousand !'" 

Such are the opinions of those friends of Dr. Johnson 
who had long lived in his society, had studied his 
writings, and were eager to give to the public every in- 
formation by which its curiosity to know the history of 
so eminent a character might be gratified. But by 
what fatality it has happened, that they were ignorant 
of the vast labour Dr. Johnson employed in correcting 
this work after it came from the first press, it is not 
easy to determine. This circumstance indeed might 
not fall within the scope of Mr. Murphy's elegant 
essay ; but had it been known to Sir John Hawkins or 
to Mr. Boswell, they would undoubtedly have been 
eager to bring it forward as a prominent part of Dr. 
Johnson's literary history. Mr. Boswell has given us 
some various readings of the " Lives of the Poets;" 
and the reader will probably agree with him, that 
although the author's " amendments in that work are 
for the better, there is nothing of the pannus assutus : 
the texture is uniform, and indeed what had been there 
at first is very seldom unfit to have remained." ( J ) At 
the conclusion of these various readings he offers an 
apology, of which I may be permitted to avail myself : 
" Should it be objected, that many of my various read- 
ings are inconsiderable, those who make the objection 
will be pleased to consider that such small particulars 
are intended for those who are nicely critical in com- 
position, to whom they will be an acceptable col- 
lection." 

Is it not surprising, that this friend and companion 

(1) These were the alterations made by the author in the 
manuscript, or in the proof before publication for the second 
edition. Mr. Boswell does not seem to have known that Dr. 
Johnson made so many alterations for the third edition, as to 
induce Mr. Nichols to collect them in an octavo pamphlet of 
three sheets closely printed, which was given to the purchasers 
of the second octavo edition. — Chalmers. 



CHALMERS. 133 

of our illustrious author, who has obliged the public 
with the most perfect delineation ever exhibited of any 
human being, and who declared so often that he was 
determined 

" To lose no drop of that immortal man ; " 

that one so inquisitive after the most trifling circum- 
stance connected with Dr. Johnson's character or his- 
tory, should have never heard or discovered, that Dr. 
Johnson almost re- wrote the " Rambler ■? after the first 
folio edition ? Yet the fact was, that he employed the 
limcB laborem not only on the second, but on the third 
edition, to an extent, I presume, never known in the 
annals of literature, and may be said to have carried 
Horace's rule far beyond either its letter or spirit : 

" Vos O 

« carmen reprehendite, quod non 

Multa dies et multa litura coercuit, atque 
Perfectum decies non castigavit ad unguem. 

" Never the verse approve, and hold as good, 
Till many a day and many a blot has wrought 
The polish'd work, and chasten'd ev'ry thought, 
By tenfold labour to perfection brought." 

The alterations made by Dr. Johnson in the second 
and third editions of the " Rambler" far exceed six 
thousand; a number which may perhaps justify the use 
of the word re-wrote, although it must not be taken in 
its literal acceptation. If it be asked, of what nature 
are these alterations, or why that was altered which the 
world thought perfect, the author may be allowed to 
answer for himself. Notwithstanding its fame while 
printing in single numbers, the encomiums of the 
learned, and the applause of friends, he knew its im- 
perfections, and determined to remove them. He fore- 
saw that upon this foundation his future fame would 
rest, and he determined that the superstructure thrown 
k 3 



134? JOHNSONIANA. 

*ip in baste should be strengthened and perfected at 
leisure. A few passages from No. 169. will explain his 
sentiments on this subject : — 

" Men have sometimes appeared, of such transcendent abili- 
ties, that their slightest and most cursory performances excel all 
that labour and study can enable meaner intellects to compose ; 
as there are regions of which the spontaneous products cannot be 
equalled in other soils by care and culture. But it is no less dan- 
gerous for any man to place himself in this rank of understanding, 
and fancy that he is born to be illustrious without labour, than 
to omit the cares of husbandry, and expect from his ground the 
blossoms of Arabia." — " Among the writers of antiquity I re- 
in ember none except Statius, who ventures to mention the 
speedy production of his writings, either as an extenuation of 
his faults, or as a proof of his facility. Nor did Statius, when 
he considered himself as a candidate for lasting reputation, think 
a closer attention unnecessary; but amidst all his pride and in- 
digence, the two great hasteners of modern poems, employed 
twelve years upon the Thebaid, and thinks his claim to renown 
proportionate to his labour." — " To him whose eagerness of 
praise hurries his productions soon into the light, many imper- 
fections are unavoidable, even where the mind furnishes the 
materials, as well as regulates their disposition, and nothing 
depends upon search or information. Delay opens new veins 
of thought, the subject dismissed for a time appears with a new 
train of dependent images, the accidents of reading or convers- 
ation supply new ornaments or allusions, or mere intermission 
of the fatigue of thinking enables the mind to collect new force 
and make new excursions." 

With such sentiments it must appear at least probable, 
that our author would, in his own case, endeavour to 
repair the mischiefs of haste or negligence ; but as these 
were not very obvious to his friends, they made no 
inquiry after them, nor entertained any suspicion of the 
labour he endured to render his writings more worthy 
of their praise ; and when his contemporaries had de- 
parted, he might not think it necessary to tell a new 
generation that he had not reached perfection at once. 



JOHNSONIANA. 135 

— On one occasion Mr. Boswell came so near the ques- 
tion, that if Dr. Johnson had thought it worth entering 
upon, he had a very fair opportunity. Being asked by 
a lady, whether he thought he could make his Rambler 
better, he answered that he certainly could. Boswell. 
" I'll lay you a bet, Sir, you cannot." Johnson. 
" But I will, Sir, if I choose. I shall make the best 
of them you shall pick out, better." Boswell. (i But 
you may add to them ; I will not allow of that." John- 
son. " Nay, Sir, there are three ways of making them 
better, — putting out, adding, or correcting,' 3 ( 2 ) 

655. Donne v. Pope. ( 2 ) 
The late Mr. Crauford, of Hyde Park Corner, being 
engaged to dinner, where Dr. Johnson was to be, re- 
solved to pay his court to him ; and, having heard that 
he preferred Donne's Satires to Pope's version of them, 
said, " Do you know, Dr. Johnson, that I like Dr. 
Donne's original Satires better than Pope's." Johnson 
said, iC Well, Sir, I can't help that." 

656. Music. — King David. 

Miss Johnson, one of Sir Joshua's nieces (afterwards 
Mrs. Deane), was dining one day at her uncle's with 
Dr. Johnson and a large party : the conversation hap- 
pening to turn on music, Johnson spoke very contemp- 
tuously of that art, and added, " that no man of talent, or 
whose mind was capable of better things, ever would or 
could devote his time and attention to so idle and frivo- 
lous a pursuit." The young lady, who was very fond 
of music, whispered her next neighbour, " I wonder 
what Dr. Johnson thinks of King David." Johnson 

(1) In corroboration of his assertions, Mr. Chalmers has 
transcribed No. 180. of the original folio Rambler, marking the 
variations by italics. 

(2) This and the six following scraps were communicated 
to Mr. Croker. 



136 JOHNSONIANA. 

OTerheard her, and, with great good humour and com- 
placency, said, "Madam, I thank you; 1 stand rebuked 
before you, and promise that, on one subject at least, 
you shall never hear me talk nonsense again/' 

657. Pleasure of Hunting. 

The honours of the University of Cambridge were 
once performed to Dr. Johnson, by Dr. Watson, af- 
terwards Bishop of Llandaff, and then Professor of 
Chemistry, &c. ( ! ) After having spent the morning in 
seeing all that was worthy of notice, the sage dined at 
his conductors table, which was surrounded by various 
persons, all anxious to see so remarkable a character, 
but the moment was not favourable; he had been 
wearied by his previous exertions, and would not talk* 
After the party had dispersed, he said, " I was tired, 
and would not take the trouble, or I could have set them 
right upon several subjects, Sir ; for instance, the gen- 
tleman who said he could not imagine how any pleasure 
could be derived from hunting, — the reason is, because 
man feels his own vacuity less in action than when at 
rest." 

658. Johnson in a Stage Coach. 

Mr. Williams, the rector of Wellesbourne, in War- 
wickshire, mentioned having once, when a young man, 
performed a stage-coach journey with Dr. Johnson, 
who took his place in the vehicle, provided with a little 
book, which his companion soon discovered to be Lu- 
cian : he occasionally threw it aside, if struck by any 
remark made by his fellow-travellers, and poured forth 
his knowledge and eloquence in a full stream, to the de- 
light and astonishment of his auditors. Accidentally, 
the first subject which attracted him was the digestive 

(1) Dr. Watson was a fellow of Trinity. See ante. Vol. II. 
p. 284. and p. 330., an account of this visit to Cambridge, which 
occurred in Feb. 1765. — C. 



JOHNSONIANA. 137 

faculties of dogs, from whence he branched off as to the 
powers of digestion in various species of animals, dis- 
covering such stores of information, that this particular 
point might have been supposed to have formed his es- 
pecial study, and so it was with every other subject 
started. The strength of his memory was not less as- 
tonishing than his eloquence ; he quoted from various 
authors, either in support of his own argument or to 
confute those of his companions, as readily, and appa- 
rently as accurately, as if the works had been in his 
hands. The coach halted, as usual, for dinner, which 
seemed to be a deeply interesting business to Johnson, 
who vehemently attacked a dish of stewed carp, using 
his ringers only in feeding himself. ( } ) 

659» " Pilgrim's Progress" 
Bishop Percy was at one time on a very intimate 
footing with Dr. Johnson, and the Doctor one day took 
Percy's little daughter ( 2 ) upon his knee, and asked her 
what she thought of i( Pilgrim's Progress?'' The child 
answered, that she had not read it. " No !" replied the 
Doctor; "then 1 would not give one farthing for you;" 
and he set her down and took no further notice of her. 

660. Dinner at University, 
My venerable friend, Dr. Fisher, of the Charter- 
house, now in his eighty-fifth year, informs me (says 
Mr. Croker) that he was one of the party who dined 
with Dr. Johnson at University College, Oxford, in 
March, 1776*. ( 3 ) There were present, he says, Dr. 
WetherelL Johnson, Boswell, Coulson, Scott, Gwynn, 

(1) Mr. Boswell, ante, Vol- VIII. p. 284., mentions another 
instance, in which Dr. Johnson surprised his accidental com- 
panions in a stage-coach with the force of his conversation and 
the goodness of his appetite. — C. 

(2) Afterwards Mrs. Isted, of Ecton, Northamptonshire. 

(3) [See ante, Vol. VI. p. 75.] 



138 JOHNSONIANA. 

Dr. Chandler the traveller, and Fisher, then a young 
Fellow of the College. He recollects one passage of the 
conversation at dinner : — Boswell quoted " Quern Deus 
vult perdere prius dementatf and asked where it was. 
After a pause Dr. Chandler said in Horace,— -another 
pause ; then Fisher remarked, that he knew no metre 
in Horace to which the words could be reduced ; upon 
which Johnson said dictatorially (i The young man is 
right." Dr. Fisher recollects another conversation dur- 
ing this visit to Oxford, when there was a Mr. Morti- 
mer, a shallow, vulgar man, who had no sense of John- 
son's superiority, and talked a great deal of flippant 
nonsense. At last he said, that (< metaphysics were 
all stuff — nothing but vague words." " Sir," said John- 
son, " do you know the meaning of the word metaphy- 
sics ?" " To be sure," said the other. " Then, Sir, you 
must know that two and two make four, is a metaphysical 
proposition." — " I deny it," rejoined Mortimer, " 't is 
an arithmetical one ; I deny it utterly/' " Why, then 
Sir," said Johnson, " if you deny that we arrive at 
that conclusion by a metaphysical process, I can only 
say, that plus in una hord unus asinus negabit, quam 
centum pMlosophi in centum annis probaverint? 

66l. Langton on Johnsons Death. 
The following letter was written with an agitated 
hand, from the very chamber of death, by the amiable 
Bennet Langton, and obviously interrupted by his feel- 
ings. It is not addressed, but Mr. Langton's family 
believe it was intended for Mr. Boswell : 

" My dear Sir, — After many conflicting hopes and fears 
respecting the event of this heavy return of illness which has 
assailed our honoured friend, Dr. Johnson, since his arrival 
from Lich field, about four days ago the appearances grew more 
and more awful, and this afternoon at eight o'clock, when I 
arrived at his house to see how he should be going on, I was 
acquainted at the door, that about three quarters of an hour 



GREEN. 139 

before, he had breathed his last. I am now writing in the room 
where his venerable remains exhibit a spectacle, the interesting 
solemnity of which, difficult as it would be in any sort to find 
terms to express, so to you, my dear Sir, whose own sensations 
will paint it so strongly, it would be of all men the most super- 
fluous to attempt to ." 

662. Johnson md Burke compared. Q) 

The distinguishing excellence of Johnson's manner, 
both in speaking and writing, consists in the apt and 
lively illustrations by example, with which, in his 
vigorous sallies, he enforces his just and acute remarks 
on human life and manners, in all their modes and re- 
presentations : the character and charm of his style, is 
a happy choice of dignified and appropriate expressions, 
and that masterly involution of phrase, by which he 
contrives to bolt the prominent idea strongly on the 
mind. Burke's felicity is in a different sphere : it lies 
in the diversified allusions to all arts and to all sciences, 
by which, as he pours along his redundant tide of 
eloquence and reason, he reflects a light and interest on 
every topic which he treats ; in a promptitude to catch 
the language and transpose the feelings of passion ; and 
in the unrestrained and ready use of a style, the most 
flexible and the most accommodating to all topics, " from 
grave to gay, from lively to severe," that perhaps any 
writer, in any language, ever attained. (e Ipsae res 
verba rapiunt." As opposed to each other, condens- 
ation might perhaps be regarded as the distinguishing 
characteristic of the former, and expansion of the 
latter. 

663. Preface to Shakspeare. 
It would be difficult to find in the English language, 
of equal variety and length, four such compositions as 

(1) [This and the nine following are from " The Diary of a 
Lover of Literature," by T. Green of Ipswich, 4to, 1810 ; and 
since continued in the Gentleman's Magazine.] 



140 JOHNSONIANA. 

Burke's Speech to the Electors of Bristol, Johnson's 
Preface to Shakspeare, Parr's Dedication to Hurd, and 
Lowth's Letter to Warburton. 

664>. cc Panting Time" 
Johnson, perhaps, caught his " panting Time toiled 
after him in vain," from Young's " And leave praise 
panting in the distant vale." 

665. « The Happy Valley: 9 

Looked over RennelTs Memoir of his Map of Hin- 
dostan. The secluded valley of Cashmere, — forming, 
between the parallels of 34° and 35°, an oval hollow 
eighty miles by fifty ; blooming with perennial spring, 
refreshed with cascades and streams and lakes, and 
enriched with mountainous ridges towering into the 
regions of eternal snow, — was perhaps Johnson's proto- 
type for the Happy Valley of Amhara in " Rasselas/' 

666. Gray. 

It is curious to hear Gray, in his tenth letter to 
Horace Walpole, say, (C The same man's verses" (John- 
son's, at the opening of Garrick's theatre) " are not 
bad" — of one who was destined afterwards to sit in 
imperial judgment on him and all his tribe. 

667. Johnsons Conversation. 

Had a long and interesting conversation with [Sir 
James] Mackintosh. Spoke highly of Johnson's prompt 
tnd vigorous powers in conversation, and, on this ground, 
of Boswell's Life of him : Burke, he said, agreed with 
him ; and affirmed, that this work was a greater monu- 
ment to Johnson's fame, than all his writings put 
together. 

668. " Pleasures of Hope." 

Read Campbell's Pleasures of Hope. The beau- 
tiful allusion with which this poem opens, is borrowed 



GREEN. 141 

from one in Johnson's collections for the " Rambler ; " 
which, I believe, he never employed, but which was 
certainly too good to be lost. ( j ) 

669- Dr. Bernard. 

Mr. Monney told me he had often met Johnson, 
and imitated his manner very happily. Johnson came 
on a visit to the president of his college (Jesus) at Ox- 
ford, Dr. Bernard. Dr. Bernard ventured to put a 
joke upon Johnson; but being terrified by a tre- 
mendous snarl, (i Indeed, indeed, Doctor, believe me," 
said he, " I meant nothing." " Sir," said Johnson, 
" if you mean nothing, say nothing ! " and was quiet 
for the rest of the evening. 

670. Johnsons " Letters" 

Johnson's Letters to Mrs. Thrale raise him, if pos- 
sible, still higher than ever in my esteem and venera- 
tion. His wonderful insight into the real springs of 
human actions is often apparent where he trifles most ; 
and when he summons his powers, he pours new and 
unexpected light, even on the clearest and most ob- 
vious topics. His fertility of logical invention is pro- 
bably unrivalled. 

671. Boswell. 
Boswell, from his open, communicative, good-hu- 
moured vanity, which leads him to display events and 
feelings that other men, of more sound judgment, 
though slighter pretensions, would have studiously con- 
cealed, has depressed himself below his just level in 
public estimation. His information is extensive; his 
talents far from despicable ; and he seems so exactly 
adapted, even by his very foibles, that we might almost 
suppose him purposely created to be the chronicler of 

(1) [See ante, Vol. I. p. 238.] 



142 JOHNSONIANA 

Johnson. A pleasing and instructive pocket-companion 
might be formed by a judicious selection from his 
copious repertory of Johnson's talk. 

672. cc Vesuvius Ccesar." 
I have (says Mr. W. E. Surtees) heard my grand- 
mother, a daughter, by his first wife, of the Dean 
of Ossory (who married secondly Miss Charlotte Cot- 
terell, see Vol. II. p. 152.), speak of Dr. Johnson, as 
having frequently seen him in her youth. On one oc- 
casion, probably about 1762-3, he spent a day or two 
in the country with her father, and went with the family 
to see the house of a rich merchant. The owner — 
all bows and smiles — seemed to exult in the opportunity 
of displaying his costly articles of virtu to his visitor, 
and, in going through their catalogue, observed, ' ' And 
this, Dr. Johnson, is Vesuvius Caesar." My grand- 
mother, then but a girl, could not suppress a titter, when 
the Doctor turned round, and thus, alike to the dis- 
comfiture of the merchant and herself, sternly rebuked 
her aloud, a What is the child laughing at ? Ignorance 
is a subject for pity — not for laughter." 

673. Story-telling: Q) 
Dr. Johnson, having had a general invitation from 
Lord Lansdowne to see Bow- wood, his Lordship's seat 
in Wiltshire, he accordingly made him a visit, in com- 
pany with Cumming, the Quaker, a character at that 
time well known as the projector of the conquest of 
Senegal. They arrived about dinner-time, and were 
received with such respect and good-breeding, that the 
Doctor joined in the conversation with much pleasantry 
and good-humour. He told several stories of his ac- 
quaintance with literary characters, and in particular re- 
peated the last part of his celebrated letter to Lord Ches- 

(1) [This and the eight following are from the European 
Magazine, edited at the time by Isaac Reed, Esq.] 



JOHNSONIANA. 143 

terfield, desiring to be dismissed from all further patron- 
age. Whilst iC the feast of reason and the flow of soul " 
was thus enjoying^ a gentleman of Lord Lansdowne's 
acquaintance from London happened to arrive ; but 
being too late for dinner, his Lordship was making his 
apologies, and added, "But you have lost a better thing 
than dinner, in not being here time enough to hear Dr. 
Johnson repeat his charming letter to Lord Chesterfield, 
though I dare say the Doctor will be kind enough to 
give it to us again." " Indeed, my Lord," says the Doc- 
tor (who began to growl the moment the subject was 
mentioned), " I will not : I told the story just for my 
own amusement, but I will not be dragged in as story- 
teller to a company." 

674. Pomponius Gauricus. 

Dr. Johnson had planned a book on the model of 
Robinson Crusoe. Pomponius Gauricus, a learned 
Neapolitan, who had dabbled in alchemy, &c, suddenly 
disappeared in the year 1530, and was heard of no 
more. The supposed life of this man the Doctor had 
resolved to write. " I will not," said he, cc shipwreck 
my hero on an uninhabited island, but will carry him 
up to the summit of San Pelegrini, the highest of the 
Apennines; where he shall be made his own bio- 
grapher, passing his time among the goat -herds," &c* 

675. Character of Boswell. 

Boswell was a man of excellent natural parts, on 
which he had engrafted a great deal of general know- 
ledge. His talents as a man of company were much 
heightened by his extreme cheerfulness and good na- 
ture. Mr. Burke said of him, that he had no merit in 
possessing that agreeable faculty, and that a man might 
as well assume to himself merit in possessing an excel- 
lent constitution. Mr. Boswell professed the Scotch 



144 JOHNSONIANA. 

and the English law ; but had never taken very great 
pains on the subject. His father, Lord Auchinleck, 
told him one day, that it would cost him more trouble 
to hide his ignorance in these professions, than to show 
his knowledge. This Mr. Boswell owned he had found 
to be true. Society was his idol ; to that he sacrificed 
every thing : his eye glistened, and his countenance 
brightened up, when he saw the human face divine ; 
and that person must have been very fastidious indeed, 
who did not return him the same compliment when he 
came into a room. Of his Life of Johnson, who can 
say too much, or praise it too highly ? What is Plu- 
tarch's biography to his ? so minute, so appropriate, so 
dramatic. " How happy would the learned world have 
been," said the present acute and elegantly minded 
Bishop of Hereford (*), " had Pericles, Plato, or Socrates 
possessed such a friend and companion as Mr. Boswell 
was to Doctor Johnson ! " 

676. Johnsons Agility. 

A gentleman of Lichfield meeting the Doctor re- 
turning from a walk, inquired how far he had been ? 
The Doctor replied, he had gone round Mr. Levet's 
field (the place where the scholars play) in search of a 
rail that he used to jump over when a boy, " and," says 
the Doctor in a transport of joy, " I have been so for- 
tunate as to find it : I stood," said he, te gazing upon it 
some time with a degree of rapture, for it brought to 
my mind all my juvenile sports and pastimes, and at 
length I determined to try my skill and dexterity ; I 
laid aside my hat and wig, pulled of my coat, and leapt 
over it twice." Thus the great Dr. Johnson, only three 
years before his death, was, without hat, wig, or coat, 
jumping over a rail that he had used to fly over when 
a school-boy. 

Amongst those who were so intimate with Dr. Johnson 

(1) [The Rev. Dr. John Butler.] 



REED. 145 

as to have him occasionally an intimate in their families, 
it is a well known fact that he would frequently descend 
from the contemplation of subjects the most profound 
imaginable to the most childish playfulness. It was no 
uncommon thing to see him hop, step, and jump ; he 
would often seat himself on the back of his chair, and 
more than once has been known to propose a race on 
some grassplat adapted to the purpose. He was very 
intimate and much attached to Mr. John Payne, once a 
bookseller in Paternoster Row, and afterwards Chief 
Accountant of the Bank. Mr. Payne was of a very 
diminutive appearance, and once when they were to- 
gether on a visit with a friend at some distance from 
town, Johnson in a gaiety of humour proposed to run 
a race with Mr. Payne — the proposal was accepted ; 
but, before they had proceeded more than half of the in- 
tended distance, Johnson caught his little adversary up 
in his arms, and without any ceremony placed him upon 
the arm of a tree which was near, and then continued 
running as if he had met with a hard match. He after- 
wards returned with much exultation to release his friend 
from the no very pleasant situation in which he had left 
him. 

677. Boswelts Life of Johnson. 

Cowper, the poet, speaking of Boswell's Life of 
Johnson, observed, that though it was so much abused, 
it presented the best portrait that had ever been given of 
the great English moralist; adding, that mankind would 
be gratified indeed, if some contemporary of Shakspeare 
and Milton had given the world such a history of those 
unrivalled poets. 

678- Party Heat. 

Doctor, afterwards Dean Maxwell, sitting in com- 
pany with Johnson, they were talking of the violence of 
parties, and what unwarrantable and insolent lengths 

vol. x. L 



146 JOHNSONIANA. 

mobs will sometimes run into. i( Why, yes, Sir/' says 
Johnson, " they'll do any thing, no matter how odd, or 
desperate, to gain their point ; they'll catch hold of the 
red-hot end of a poker, sooner than not get possession 
of it." 

679* Rights of Hospitality. 
Dr. Johnson, in his tour through North Wales, 
passed two days at the seat of Colonel Middleton of 
Gwynagag. While he remained there, the gardener 
caught a hare amidst some potatoe plants, and brought 
it to his master, then engaged in conversation with the 
Doctor. An order was given to carry it to the cook. As 
soon as Johnson heard this sentence, he begged to have 
the animal placed in his arms ; which was no sooner 
done, than approaching the window then half open, he 
restored the hare to her liberty, shouting after her to 
accelerate her speed. ' ' What have you done ? " cried the 
Colonel ; " why, Doctor, you 1 ave robbed my table of a 
delicacy, perhaps deprived us of a dinner." u So much 
the better, Sir," replied the humane champion of a con- 
demned hare ; for if your table is to be supplied at the 
expense of the laws of hospitality, I envy not the ap- 
- petite of him who eats it. This, Sir, is not a hare 
ferce natures, but one which had placed itself under your 
protection ; and savage indeed must be that man who 
does not make his hearth an asylum for the confiding 
stranger." 

680. Count de Holcke. ( ] ) 
In the year 1768, the king of Denmark visited Eng- 
land, and amongst the gentlemen of his suite was Count 
de Holcke, grand master of the wardrobe, a gentleman 
of considerable celebrity for polite learning and classical 
erudition ; this gentleman had heard much of Dr. John- 
son's literary fame, and was therefore anxious to see 

(1) [This and the two following are from the Monthly 
Magazine.] 



GERMAN TRAVELLER. 14? 

him. Through the interest of Dr. Brocklesby, he was 
enabled to pay Johnson a morning visit. They had a 
long conversation. Next day Count de Holcke dined 
with Lord Temple in Pall Mall, where he met Mr. 
William Gerard Hamilton (commonly called Single- 
speech Hamilton), who, knowing of his visit to Johnson, 
asked him what he thought of the Doctor ? Holcke 
replied, that of all the literary impostors and pedants he 
had ever met with he thought Johnson the greatest — 
" so shallow a fellow/' he said, " he had never seen ! " 

681. A German Travellers Interview with Johnson 
in 1768. (!) 

I am just returned from a visit to Samuel Johnson, 
the colossus of English literature, who combines pro- 
found knowledge with wit, and humour with serious 
wisdom, and whose exterior announces nothing of these 
qualities ; for in the proportions of his form are ex- 
actly those of the sturdy drayman. To this he alludes 
in his delineation of the Idler : " The diligence of an 
Idler is rapid and impetuous ; as ponderous bodies, 
forced into velocity, move with violence proportionate 
to their weight." 

His manners are boorish ; and his eye cold as his 
raillery ■ never is it animated with a glance that betrays 
archness or acuteness ; he constantly seems to be, and 
not seldom he really is, absent and distracted. — He 
had invited Colman and me by letter, and forgot it. 
We surprised him, in the strictest sense of the word, at 
the country seat of Mr. Thrale, whose lady, a genteel 
agreeable Welshwoman, by way of amusement reads 
and translates Greek authors. Here Johnson lives and 
reigns (for he is fond of acting the dominator) as if he 
were in the midst of his own family. He received us 
in a friendly manner, though a certain air of solemness 
and pomposity never left him, which is interwoven with 

(1) [See ante, Vol. IX. p. 17.] 
h 2 



148 JOHNSONIANA. 

his manners as well as with his style. In conversation 
he rounds his periods, and speaks with a tone almost 
theatrical ; but whatever he says becomes interesting 
by a certain peculiar character with which it is stamped. 
We spoke of the English language; and I remarked 
"that it passed through its different epochs quicker 
than other languages : there is a greater difference/' 
said I5 " between your present writers and the cele- 
brated club of authors in the reign of Queen Ann than 
between the French of the present and the last century. 
They make incursions into foreign ground, and lavishly 
squander the easily acquired plunder ; for they follow 
not the counsel of Swift, to adopt, indeed, new words, 
but never after to reject them." iC We conquer/' inter- 
rupted me one of the guests, ec new words in a fit of 
enthusiasm, and give them back again in cold blood, as 
we do our conquests on the making of peace." " But 
are you not," asked I, " thus losers with regard to pos- 
terity ? For your writings will be scarcely intelligible 
to the third succeeding generation." ec New words," 
replied Johnson, " are well-earned riches. When a 
nation enlarges its stock of knowledge and acquires new 
ideas, it must necessarily have a suitable vesture for 
them. Foreign idioms, on the contrary, have been de- 
cried as dangerous ; and the critics daily object to me 
my Latinisms, which, they say, alter the character of 
our language : but it is seriously my opinion, that every 
language must be servilely formed after the model of 
some one of the ancient, if we wish to give durability to 
our works." Do you not think that there is some truth 
in this sophistry ? A dead language, no longer subject 
to change, may well serve as a fit standard for a living 
one. It is an old sterling weight, according to which 
the value of the current coin is estimated. — '*' The 
greatest confusion in languages," continued I, address- 
ing myself to Johnson, " is caused by a kind of original 
geniuses, who invent their own Sanscrit, that they may 



GERMAN TRAVELLER. 14& 

clothe their ideas in holy obscurity ; and yet we will- 
ingly listen to their oracular sayings, and at length are 
ourselves infected with the disease." " Singularity," 
exclaimed one of the guests, " is often a mark of 
genius." (i Then/' answered Johnson, iC there exist 
few greater geniuses than Wilton in Chelsea. ( ] ) His 
manner of writing is the most singular in the world ; 
for, since the last war, he writes with his feet." 

Colman spoke of the c ' Rehearsal," which was formerly 
so much admired as a masterpiece ; but which nobody 
bad patience now to read through. " There was too 
little salt in it to keep it sweet," said Johnson. Hume 
was mentioned. " Priestley," said I, " objects to this 
historian the frequent use of Gallicisms." " And I," 
said Johnson, " that his whole history is a Gallicism." 
Johnson eagerly seizes every opportunity of giving vent 
to his hatred against the Scots. Even in his Dictionary 
we find the following article : u Oats, a grain, which 
in England is generally given to horses, but in Scotland 
supports the people/ ' 

Not recollecting his edition of Shakspeare, which was 
so far from answering the expectations of the critics 
I unthinkingly and precipitately enough asked him, 
Ci which edition of that poet he most esteemed?" 
"Eh !" replied he with a smile; cc \ is what we call 
an unlucky question." 

I inquired after Bos well. Johnson seems to love 
him much ; he is sensible of, but forgives him, his en- 
thusiasm. Boswell is a fiery young man, who firmly 
believes in heroic virtue ; and who, in the intoxication 
of his heart, would have flown with equal ardour to 
Iceland as to Corsica, in pursuit of a demigod. 

You are acquainted with Johnson's works. The 
Rambler, the Idler ; London, a Satire ; and the ex- 
cellent Biography of Savage, are well known in Ger- 

(l) An old soldier, whose arms had been shot off. 
L 3 



150 JOHNSONIANA. 

many. But we hear less in our country of Prince 
Rasselas, a masterly, cold, political romance, as all of 
the kind are ; for a teacher of the art of government, 
who, remote from, and unpractised in, affairs, writes for 
kings, can spin out of his brain a texture only of gene- 
ral principles. Irene, a tragedy by Johnson, full of 
the finest speeches, was hissed, and is forgotten. 

This celebrated man had long to contend with po- 
verty ; for you must not imagine, that England always 
rewards her authors in proportion to the general admir- 
ation they excite. Often was he obliged to hide him- 
self in a cellar near Moorfields, to avoid being lodged in 
a room with an iron grate. In those days of adversity 
he wrote speeches worthy of a Demosthenes, for and 
against the most important questions agitated in Par- 
liament, which were published under the names of the 
real members. These speeches for a long time passed for 
genuine in the country ; and it is not generally known, 
that among them is the celebrated speech of Pitt, which 
he is said to have pronounced, when his youth was ob- 
jected to him, and which never so flowed from the 
mouth of Pitt. Johnson has now conducted the Pacto- 
lus into his garden. He enjoys a pension of three 
hundred pounds sterling, not to make speeches ; but, 
as the Opposition asserts, to induce him to remain 
silent 

I forgot to tell you, that Johnson denies the anti- 
quity of Ossian. Macpherson is a native of Scotland ; 
and Johnson would rather suffer him to pass for a great 
poet than allow him to be an honest man. I am con- 
vinced of their authenticity. Macpherson showed me, 
in the presence of Alexander Dow, at least twelve par- 
cels of the manuscript of the Earse original. Some of 
these manuscripts seemed to be very old. Literati of 
my acquaintance, who understand the language, have 
compared them with the translation; and we must 
either believe the absurdity, that Macpherson had like- 



THE SALISBURY STAGE. 151 

wise fabricated the Earse text, or no longer contend 
against evidence. Macpherson declaimed a few passages 
to me. The language sounded melodious enough, but 
solemnly plaintive and guttural, like the languages of 
all rude, uncultivated nations. 

082. Johnson in the Salisbury Stage. ( ] ) 
In the year 1?83 (says a correspondent)^ I went in 
the stage-coach from London to Salisbury. Upon enter- 
ing it, I perceived three gentlemen, one of whom strongly 
attracted my notice. He was a corpulent man, with a 
book in his hand, placed very near to his eyes. He had 
a large wig, which did not appear to have been combed 
for an age : his clothes were threadbare. On seating 
myself in the coach, he lifted up his eyes, and directed 
them towards me ; but in an instant they resumed their 
former employment. I was immediately struck with his 
resemblance to the print of Dr. Johnson, given as a 
frontispiece to the " Lives of the Poets ; n but how to 
gratify my curiosity I was at a loss. I thought, from 
all I had heard of Dr. Johnson, that I should discover 
him if, by any means, I could engage him in conversa- 
tion. The gentleman by the side of him remarked, 
ei I wonder, Sir, that you can read in a coach which 
travels so swiftly : it would make my head ache." 
"Ay, Sir,*' replied he, "books make some people's 
head ache." This appeared to me Johnsonian. I 
knew several persons with w T hom Dr. Johnson was well 
acquainted : this was another mode of trying how far 
my conjecture was right. " Do you know Miss Han-, 
nah More, Sir ? " " Well, Sir : the best of all the 
female versifiers." This phraseology confirmed my 
former opinion. We now reached Hounslow, and were 



(1) [In August 1783, Johnson paid a visit to Mr. Bowles of 
Heale, near Salisbury. See ante, Vol. VIII. p. 288.] 

L 4 



152 



JOHNSONIANA. 



served with our breakfast. Having found that none of 
my travelling companions knew this gentleman, I plainly 
put the question, " May I take the liberty, Sir, to en- 
quire whether you be not Dr. Johnson ? " " The same, 
Sir." " I am happy," replied I, " to congratulate the 
learned world, that Dr. Johnson, whom the papers lately 
announced to be dangerously indisposed, is re-established 
in his health." (i The civilest young man I ever met 
with in my life," was his answer. From that moment 
he became very gracious towards me. I was then pre- 
paring to go abroad ; and imagined that I could derive 
some useful information from a character so eminent 
lor learning. " What book of travels, Sir, would you 
advise me to read, previously to my setting off upon a 
tour to France and Italy?" " Why, Sir, as to France, 
I know no book worth a groat : and as to Italy, Baretti 
paints the fair side, and Sharp the foul ; the truth, 
perhaps, lies between the two." Every step which 
brought us nearer to Salisbury increased my pain, 
at the thought of leaving so interesting a fellow- 
traveller. I observed that, at dinner, he contented 
himself with water, as his beverage. I asked him, 
ie Whether he had ever tasted bumbo ?" a West- Indian 
potation, which is neither more nor less than very strong 
punch. "No, Sir," said he. I made some. He 
tasted ; and declared, that if ever he drank any thing 
else than water, it should be bumbo. When the sad 
moment of separation, at Salisbury, arrived, " Sir," said 
he, " let me see you in London, upon your return to 
your native country. I am sorry that we must part. 
I have always looked upon it as the worst condition of 
man's destiny, that persons are so often torn asunder, just 
as they become happy in each others society." 



KNOX. 153 

683. Knox on the Character of Johnson, (*) 
The illustrious character of Pierre de Corneille in- 
duced those who approached him to expect something 
in his manners, address, and conversation, above the 
common level. They were disappointed; and, in a 
thousand similar instances, a similar disappointment has 
taken place. The friends of Corneille, as was natural 
enough, were uneasy at rinding people express their 
disappointment after an interview with him. They 
wished him to appear as respectable when near as when 
at a distance ; in a personal intimacy, as in the regions 
of fame. They took the liberty of mentioning to him 
his defects, his awkward address, his ungentlemanlike 
behaviour. Corneille heard the enumeration of his 
faults with great patience ; and, when it was concluded, 
said with a smile, and with a just confidence in himself, 
" All this may be very true, but, notwithstanding all 
this, I am still Pierre de Corneille/' 

The numberless defects, infirmities, and faults which 
the friends of Dr. Johnson have brought to public light, 
were chiefly what, in less conspicuous men, would be 
passed over as foibles, or excused as mere peccadilloes ; 
and, however his enemies may triumph in the exposure, 
I think he might, if he were alive, imitate Corneille, 
and say, " Notwithstanding all this, I am still Samuel 
Johnson." 

Few men could stand so fierce a trial as he has done. 
His gold has been put into the furnace, and, considering 
the violence of the fire and the frequent repetition of 
the process, the quantity of dross and alloy is incon- 
siderable. Let him be considered not absolutely, but 
comparatively ; and let those who are disgusted with 
him ask themselves, whether their own characters, or 
those they most admire, would not exhibit some de- 

(1) [This and the following are from " Winter Evenings; or 
Lucubrations," by Dr. Vicesimus Knox.] 



154? JOHNSONIANA. 

formity, if they were to be analysed with a minute and 
anxious curiosity. The private conversation of John- 
son, the caprice of momentary ill -humour, the weak- 
ness of disease, the common infirmities of human nature, 
have been presented to the public without those alle- 
viating circumstances which probably attended them. 
And where is the man that has not foibles, weaknesses, 
follies, and defects of some kind ? And where is the 
man that has greater virtues, greater abilities, more 
useful labours, to put into the opposite scale against his 
defects than Johnson ? Time, however, will place him, 
notwithstanding all his errors and infirmities, high in 
the ranks of fame. Posterity will forgive his roughness 
of manner, his apparent superstition, and his prejudices ; 
and will remember his Dictionary, his moral writings, 
his biography, his manly vigour of thought, his piety, 
and his charity. They will make allowances for morbid 
melancholy ; for a life, a great part of which was spent 
in extreme indigence and labour, and the rest, by a 
sudden transition, in the midst of affluence, flattery, 
obsequiousness, submission, and universal renown. 

684. Knox on " Johnsons Prayers and Meditations." 
Every one had heard that Dr. Johnson was devout ; 
few entertained an adequate idea of his warmth and 
scrupulous regularity in the offices of devotion, till the 
publication of his Prayers and Meditations. They 
exhibit him in a light in which he has seldom appeared 
to his readers. He usually puts on a garb of dignity 
and command. His Rambler is written in the style 
of authority. His Prefaces to the Poets are dicta- 
torial. The reader is easily induced to believe that 
pride is a striking feature in his character. But he no 
sooner opens the book of Prayers and Meditations, than 
he sees him in a state of true humility : no affectation 
in the style : no words of unusual occurrence : every 
expression is such as is well adapted to a frail mortal, 



FORDYCE. 155 

however improved by art or favoured by nature, when 
he approaches the merey-seat of the Almighty. The 
reader is thus, in some degree, gratified by observing a 
man, who had always appeared to him as a superior 
mortal, and exempt from human infirmities, feeling and 
acknowledging with all humility the common weaknesses 
of all human creatures. 

685. Fordyce on the Death and Character of 
Dr. Johnson. ( ] ) 

It hath pleased thee, Almighty Disposer, to number 
with the silent dead a man of renown, a master in 
Israel, who had " the tongue of the learned," and 
worshipped thee with fervour " in the land of the 
living." His was " the pen of a ready writer/* His 
was the happy power of communicating truth with 
clearness, and inculcating virtue with energy ; of cloth- 
ing the gravest counsels in the attractive garb of enter- 
tainment, and adding dignity to the most obvious 
maxims of prudence. To him it was given to expose 
with just discrimination the follies of a frivolous age, 
and with honest zeal to reprobate its vices. 

This shining light raised up by thee, ' ' the Father of 
lights," for the honour of thy name, and the benefit of 
many, thou hast lately seen fit to remove. But blessed 
be thy Providence for continuing him so long. Blessed 
be thy Spirit that enriched him with those eminent 
gifts, and enabled him to render them useful. In his 
presence the infidel was awed, the profane stood cor- 
rected, and the mouth of the swearer was stopped. In 
his discourse the majesty of genius impressed the at- 
tentive and unprejudiced with a reverence for wisdom ; 
the virtuous and the pious were encouraged by the ap- 
probation of superior discernment; and truths^ that 

(1) [From "Addresses to the Deity," bv James Fordyce, 
D.D., 12mo. 1785.] 



I5f) JOHNSONIANA, 

had lost the allurement of novelty, recovered their 
influence, from the native hut peculiar force with which 
they were proposed. 

But ^ what is man," O Lord? or who among the 
sons of men can plead innocence hefore the Thrice 
Holy ? When trouble and anguish came upon thy 
aged servant, when " his sleep went from him," when 
in solemn recollection he <c communed with his own 
heart upon his bed," and examined himself in the view 
of his last and great account, he saw wherein he had 
offended. Then it was, that I heard him condemn, 
with holy self-abasement, the pride of understanding 
by which he had often trespassed against the laws of 
courteous demeanour, and forgotten the fallible con- 
dition of his nature. Then it was, that I heard him, 
with ingenuous freedom, commend the virtues of for- 
bearance and moderation in matters of belief, as more 
conformable to reason, and to the Gospel of thy Son, 
than he had long conceived. How deep was the con- 
trition which then penetrated his soul, in the re- 
membrance of his sins, and caused him to feel more 
strongly, what indeed he had ever acknowledged, that 
no extent of intellect, and no eminence of fame, can 
arm an awakened and reflecting mind against the fear 
of thy displeasure ! Let it be known that this man, 
after considering the uncertainty of life, after studying 
the sanctity of thy law, after discovering more clearly 
the utter insufficiency of human attainments, and con- 
templating with ardent solicitude the stupendous and 
unspeakable importance of salvation, did with all the 
humility of faith cast himself on thine infinite mercy 
through Jesus Christ. But for the confirmation of the 
true believer, and to overthrow the delusive pretences 
and vain expectations of hypocrisy, let it be known 
also, that while he rested only on this foundation, he 
was unalterably assured it would support none but the 
penitent and upright, the devout and benevolent. 



FORDYCE. 157 

Whatever esteem or gratitude he deserved from his 
countrymen, for his diligence and skill in furthering the 
knowledge of their native tongue, in which they may 
study the Revelation of thy Will, and find withal so 
many treasures of useful truth and solid learning ; 
little, alas! would that, or his other labours and abilities, 
have availed him in the dread concluding hour, if in his 
lifetime he had abused them to thy dishonour, or neg- 
lected to secure thine acceptance by what is better than 
all knowledge, sagacity, or eloquence ; by veneration for 
thee, and charity to mankind. 

Father of spirits ! if men without principle or feeling 
should exult, and say that his anxiety in the prospect of 
his latter end arose from the weakness and depression of 
disease ; I record it to the honour of thy service, that 
never were his faculties more vigorous or animated, 
never were his views more raised, or his words more 
emphatical, than in those moments when the consider- 
ation of thine immaculate purity, and of the all-deciding 
trial, had full possession of his soul. Nor didst thou 
leave him to hopeless despondence. He knew in whom 
he trusted ; and thou gavest him to enjoy the re- 
collection of having long cherished an habitual reverence 
for thy Divine Majesty, and improved the talents he re- 
ceived at thy hand for the interests of truth, and the 
enforcement of duty, " in the midst of an evil and 
crooked generation/' To thy goodness, O God, did he 
thankfully ascribe it, that he had never sought the 
praise of the rich by flattery, or of the licentious by 
imitating their manners, and prostituting his faculties 
to embolden vice or varnish profaneness. 

But if this man boasted not that he was righteous, if 
he relied not on any virtue which he had practised, if 
he earnestly supplicated forgiveness through the merits 
of his Saviour alone, and left behind him in his latest 
deed an open testimony of his repentance and his faith; 
where shall the ungodly and the presumptuous appear ? 



158 JOHNSONIANA. 

Will they lift up their heads with joy in the day of 
judgment ? Will they challenge a reward at thy just 
tribunal ? Merciful Creator i deliver them from their 
pride and impenitence. Show them the greatness of 
their error, and lead them from themselves to the Re- 
deemer of the world for the remission of their sins. 

Let not such as were strangers to the piety and 
benevolence of thy departed servant, censure too se- 
verely the partial or prejudiced opinions that sometimes 
contracted and unhappily obscured a mind otherwise 
comprehensive and enlightened. Teach them, O Lord, 
more charitable allowance for mistakes hastily imbibed 
in the days of youth, and afterwards from the power of 
early prepossession, without consciousness of evil, fondly 
retained and vehemently defended. It may be that in 
him they were permitted by thy unerring Providence, to 
manifest more clearly the frailty of the wisest men, and 
to raise our minds from the defective patterns of ex- 
cellence here below, to thyself, the only standard of 
perfection. 

Whatever gifts adorned him were alone to be re- 
garded as emanations from thee, " from whom cometh 
down every good gift," every rational endowment, and 
exalted conception. But, O thou great sun of souls! 
can I believe, that those emanations are extinguished in 
the dust ? Can I believe, that he whose writings I 
have perused with delight and improvement, is himself 
perished in the gulf of annihilation ? Abhorred be the 
impious and unnatural thought ! When his mortal 
part, worn with watching and study, broken by suffering 
and age, yielded at last to the stroke that conquers the 
young, the prosperous, and the strong ; with what 
ecstasy would his never-dying spirit fly away, and kindle 
and flame as it approached nearer to thee, the fountain 
of light and intellectual being ! With what friendly 
transports would the illuminated and holy inhabitants of 
heaven receive to their sublime society, a mind like his, 



FORDYCE. 159 

purified from every blemish, and beaming with the 
radiance of wisdom ! I weep for joy to think, that 
good men have from the beginning survived the ruins 
of corporeal nature ; that they will continue to exist 
when ages are lost in eternity ; that they will live for 
ever blessed in thy presence, for ever dignified with thy 
friendship, O thou King Eternal ! 

Wrapt by the exalting contemplation, I rejoice more 
particularly in the permanent effulgence of those splen- 
did luminaries that have shone in long succession upon 
earth, darting the rays of knowledge and of virtue 
through different periods. I rejoice at the recollection, 
that those rays have not been quenched in the shades of 
death ; and that by thy good Providence we enjoy at 
this day the accumulated instruction of generations. 
Look with pity on the ignorant and the slothful ; who, 
having such " a price put into their hands, have not a 
heart to make use of it." Rouse them, I beseech thee, 
to a sense of their folly; and give them grace to redeem 
their past neglect, by their future diligence. 

I praise thee, the God of thy late servant, that 
" being dead he yet speaketh," in those lasting pro- 
ductions which abound with the purest morality : w T here 
the conclusions of experience are added to the re- 
searches of learning, and to the fruits of meditation ; 
where the secret recesses of the heart are explored, 
imagination is rendered ministerial to reason, and the 
reluctant passions compelled to acknowledge the claims 
of religion; where the conscious reader is turned inward 
upon himself, and blushes at the sight of his im- 
becility and guilt laid open before him with resistless 
evidence. Grant, O Lord, that we may profit by those 
severe but salutary instructions, and in the spirit of 
meekness learn from so able a teacher " the things that 
belong to our peace." Let not the graver dictates of 
his pen be lost in levity or forge tfuln ess. Nor yet let 
us rest with the transitory and ineffectual admiration of 



160 JOHNSONIANA. 

truth, when we hehold it embellished by his vivid wit 
and glowing fancy ; but may we follow its guidance 
with faithfulness and pleasure ! 

686. Cowper on Johnsons Life of Dr. Watts. Q) 
I have no objection in the world to your conveying a 
copy of my poems to Dr. Johnson ; though I well 
know that one of his pointed sarcasms, if he should 
happen to be displeased, would soon find its way into 
all companies, and spoil the sale. He writes, indeed, 
like a man that thinks a great deal, and that sometimes 
thinks religiously : but report informs me, that he has 
been severe enough in his animadversions upon Dr. 
Watts ; who was, nevertheless, if I am in any degree a 
judge of verse^ a man of truly poetical ability; careless, 
indeed, for the most part, and inattentive too to those 
niceties which constitute elegance of expression, but 
frequently sublime in his conceptions, and masterly in 
his execution. Pope, I have heard, had placed him 
once in the <e Dunciad ;" but, on being advised to read 
before he judged him, was convinced that he deserved 
other treatment, and thrust somebody's blockhead into 
the gap, whose name, consisting of a monosyllable, 
happened to fit it. Whatever faults, however, I may 
be chargeable with as a poet, I cannot accuse myself of 
negligence; I never suffer a line to pass till I have 
made it as good as I can ; and though my doctrines 
may offend this king of critics, he will not, I flatter 
myself, be disgusted by slovenly inaccuracy, either 
in the numbers, rhymes, or language. Let the rest 
take its chance. It is possible he may be pleased ; 
and if he should, I shall have engaged on my side one 
of the best trumpeters in the kingdom. Let him only 
speak as favourably of me as he has spoken of Sir 

(1) [This and the three following are from Cowper's " Pri- 
vate Correspondence," 2 vols. 8vo. 1824.] 



COWPER. 161 

Richard Blackmore, (who, though he shines in his poem 
called " Creslion," has written more absurdities in verse 
than any writer of our country,) and my success will be 
secured. (Letter to Newton, Sept. 18. 1781.) 

I am glad to be undeceived respecting the opinion I 
had been erroneously led into on the subject of John- 
son's criticism on Watts. Nothing can be more 
judicious, or more characteristic of a distinguishing 
taste, than his observations upon that writer ; though I 
think him a little mistaken in his notion, that divine 
subjects have never been poetically treated with success. 
A little more Christian knowledge and experience would 
perhaps enable him to discover excellent poetry, upon 
spiritual themes, in the aforesaid little Doctor. I per- 
fectly acquiesce in the propriety of sending Johnson a 
copy of my productions ; and I think it would be well 
to send it in our joint names, accompanied with a 
handsome card, and such an one as may predispose him 
to a favourable perusal of the book, by coaxing him 
into a good temper ; for he is a great bear, with all his 
learning and penetration. (Letter to Newton, Oct. 4. 
1781.) 

687- Cowper on the Cl Lives of the Poets.'* 
Last night I made an end of reading Johnson's 
Prefaces. I am very much the biographer's humble 
admirer. His uncommon share of good sense, and his 
forcible expression, secure to him that tribute from all 
his readers. He has a penetrating insight into character, 
and a happy talent of correcting the popular opinion 
upon all occasions where it is erroneous; and this he 
does with the boldness of a man who will think for 
himself, but, at the same time, with a justness of senti- 
ment that convinces us he does not differ from others 
through affectation, but because he has a sounder judg- 
ment. This remark, however, has his narrative for its 
object, rather than his critical performance. In the 
vol. x. m 



162 JOHNSONIANA. 

latter, I do not think him always just, when he departs 
from the general opinion. He finds no beauties in 
Milton's Lycidas, He pours contempt upon Prior, to 
such a degree, that were he really as undeserving of 
notice as he represents him, he ought no longer to be 
numbered among the poets. These, indeed, are the 
two capital instances in which he has offended me. 
There are others less important, in which I am less 
confident that he is wrong. (Letter to Unwin 3 March 
21. 1784.) 

688. Cowpers Epitaph on Dr. Johnson. 
Here Johnson lies — a sage, by all allow'd, 
Whom to have bred may well make England proud ; 
Whose prose was eloquence by wisdom taught, 
The graceful vehicle of virtue's thought ; 
Whose verse may claim, grave, masculine, and strong, 
Superior praise to the mere poet's song; 
Who many a noble gift from Heaven possess'd, 
And faith at last — alone worth all the rest. 
Oh ! man immortal by a double prize, 
On earth by fame, by favour in the skies ! 

689* Dr. King on Johnson s English. (*) 
It is a great defect in the education of our youth in 
both the Universities that they do not sufficiently apply 
themselves to the study of their mother tongue. By 
this means it happens, that some very learned men and 
polite scholars are not able to express themselves with 
propriety in common conversation, and that when they 
are discoursing on a subject which they understand per- 
fectly well. I have been acquainted with three persons 
only who spoke English with that eloquence and pro- 
priety, that if all they said had been immediately com- 
mitted to writing, any judge of the English language 

(1) [From Dr. William King's " Anecdotes of his Own 
Times," 8vo. 1819.] 



GRAY. — DUGALD STEWART. 163 

would have pronounced it an excellent and very beauti- 
ful style — Atterbury, the exiled bishop of Rochester ; 
Dr. Gower, provost of Worcester College ; and Samuel 
Johnson. 

690. Gray on " London." 
" London " is one of those few imitations that have 
all the ease and all the spirit of the original. The same 
man's verses at the opening of Garrick's Theatre are 
far from bad. (Letter to Walpole.) 

691. Richardson and Fielding. 
Gray was much pleased with an answer which Dr. 
Johnson once gave to a person on the different and com- 
parative merits of Fielding and Richardson. " Why, 
Sir, Fielding could tell you what o'clock it was ; but, as 
for Richardson, he could make a clock or a watch." 
(Matthias's Gray.) 

692. Johnsoiv on Newton. 
One of the most sagacious men in this age, who 
continues, I hope, to improve and adorn it, Samuel 
Johnson, remarked in my hearing, that if Newton had 
flourished in ancient Greece, he would have been wor- 
shipped as a divinity. How zealously then would he 
be adored, if his incomparable writings could be read 
and comprehended by the Pundits of Cashmere or 
Benares ! (Sir William Jones, 1785.) 

693. Dugald Stewart on the " Lives of the Poets:' Q) 
It is a melancholy fact with respect to artists of all 
classes; — painters, poets, orators, and eloquent writers; 
— that a large proportion of those who have evinced 
the soundest and the purest taste in their own pro- 
ductions, have yet appeared totally destitute of this 
power, when they have assumed the office of critics 

(l) [From the Philosophical Essays.] 
u 2 



164 JOHNSONIANA. 

How is this to be accounted for, but by the influence of 
bad passions (unsuspected, probably, by themselves) in 
blinding or jaundicing their critical eye ? In truth, it 
is only when the mind is perfectly serene, that the de- 
cisions of taste can be relied on. In these nicest of 
all operations of the intellectual faculties, where the 
grounds of judgment are often so shadowy and com- 
plicated, the latent sources of error are numberless; 
and to guard against them, it is necessary that no cir- 
cumstance, however trifling, should occur, either to dis- 
compose the feelings, or to mislead the understanding. 

Among our English poets, who is more vigorous, 
correct, and polished, than Dr. Johnson, in the few 
poetical compositions which he has left ? Whatever 
may be thought of his claims to originality of genius, 
no person who reads his verses can deny, that he pos- 
sessed a sound taste in this species of composition ; and 
yet, how wayward and perverse, in many instances, are 
his decisions, when he sits in judgment on a political 
adversary, or when he treads on the ashes of a departed 
rival ! To myself, (much as I admire his great and 
various merits, both as a critic and a writer,) human 
nature never appears in a more humiliating form, than 
when I read his " Lives of the Poets ;" a performance 
which exhibits a more faithful, expressive, and curious 
picture of the author than all the portraits attempted by 
his biographers ; and which, in this point of view, 
compensates fully by the moral lesson it may suggest, for 
the critical errors which it sanctions. The errors, alas ! 
are not such as any one who has perused his imitation 
of Juvenal can place to the account of a bad taste ; but 
such as had their root in weaknesses which a noble 
mind would be still more unwilling to acknowledge. If 
these observations are well founded, they seem to render 
it somewhat doubtful, whether, in the different arts, the 
most successful adventurers are likely to prove, in 
matters of criticism, the safest guides ; although Pope 



BY RON. 165 

appears to have considered the censorial authority as 
their exclusive prerogative : — 

" Let such teach others, who themselves excel, 
And censure freely who have written well." 

694. Byron on the " Vanity of Human Wishes." 
Read Johnson's " Vanity of Human Wishes" — all 
the examples and mode of giving them sublime/ as well 
as the latter part, with the exception of an occasional 
couplet. I do not so much admire the opening. I re- 
member an observation of Sharp's (the Conversationist, 
as he was called in London, and a very clever man) 
that the first line of this poem was superfluous, and 
that Pope (the best of poets, as / think) would have 
begun at once, only changing the punctuation — 

" Survey mankind from China to Peru." 

The former line, <c Let observation,' ' &e. is certainly 
heavy and useless. But 't is a grand poem — and so 
true ! — true as the tenth of Juvenal himself. The 
lapse of ages changes all things — time — language — 
the earth — the bounds of the sea — the stars of the 
sky, and every thing " about, around, and underneath" 
man, except man himelf, who has always been, and 
always will be, an unlucky rascal. The infinite variety 
of lives conduct but to death, and the infinity of wishes 
lead but to disappointment. (Life and Works, vol. v. 
p. 66.) 

695. Byron on the " Lives of the Poets" 
Johnson strips many a leaf from every laurel. Still, 
his u Lives of the Poets" is the finest critical work 
extant, and can never be read without instruction and 
delight. The opinion of that truly great man, whom 
it is the present fashion to decry, will ever be received 
by me with that deference which time will restore to 
him from all. (Ibid. vol. vi. p. 376.) 
m 3 



166 JOHNSONIANA. 

696. Sir Walter Scott on Johnson, 

Johnson's laborious and distinguished career ter- 
minated in 1784, when virtue was deprived of a steady 
supporter, society of a brilliant ornament, and literature 
of a successful cultivator. The latter part of his life 
was honoured with general applause, for none was more 
fortunate in obtaining and preserving the friendship of 
the wise and the worthy. Thus loved and venerated, 
Johnson might have been pronounced happy. But 
Heaven, in whose eyes strength is weakness, permitted 
his faculties to be clouded occasionally with that morbid 
affection of the spirits, which disgraced his talents by 
prejudices, and his manners by rudeness. 

When we consider the rank which Dr. Johnson 
held, not only in literature, but in society, we cannot 
help figuring him to ourselves as the benevolent giant 
of some fairy tale, whose kindnesses and courtesies are 
still mingled with a part of the rugged ferocity imputed 
to the fabulous sons of Anak ; or rather, perhaps, like 
a Roman dictator, fetched from his farm, whose wisdom 
and heroism still relished of his rustic occupation. And 
there were times when, with all Johnson's wisdom, and 
all his wit, this rudeness of disposition, and the sacri- 
fices and submissions which he unsparingly exacted, 
were so great, that even his kind and devoted admirer, 
Mrs. Thrale, seems at length to have thought that the 
honour of being Johnson's hostess was almost counter- 
balanced by the tax which he exacted on her time and 
patience. 

The cause of those deficiencies in temper and man- 
ners, was no ignorance of what was fit to be done in 
society, or how far each individual ought to suppress 
his own wishes in favour of those with whom he asso- 
ciates ; for, theoretically, no man understood the rules 
of good- breeding better than Dr. Johnson, or could act 
more exactly in conformity with them, when the high 



SCOTT. 167 

rank of those with whom he was in company for the 
time required that he should put the necessary con- 
straint upon himself. But, during the greater part of 
his life,, he had been in a great measure a stranger to 
the higher society, in which such restraint is necessary ; 
and it may be fairly presumed, that the indulgence of a 
variety of little selfish peculiarities, which it is the ob- 
ject of good-breeding to suppress, became thus familiar 
to him. The consciousness of his own mental supe- 
riority in most companies which he frequented, con- 
tributed to his dogmatism ; and when he had attained 
his eminence as a dictator in literature, like other po- 
tentates, he was not averse to a display of his authority: 
resembling in this particular Swift, and one or two 
other men of genius, who have had the bad taste to 
imagine that their talents elevated them above observ- 
ance of the common rules of society. It must be also 
remarked, that in Johnson's time, the literary society 
of London was much more confined than at present, 
and that he sat the Jupiter of a little circle, sometimes 
indeed nodding approbation, but always prompt, on the 
slightest contradiction, to launch the thunders of rebuke 
and sarcasm. He w T as, in a word, despotic, and des- 
potism will occasionally lead the best dispositions into 
unbecoming abuse of power. It is not likely that any 
one will again enjoy, or have an opportunity of abusing, 
the singular degree of submission which was rendered 
to Johnson by all around him. The unreserved com- 
munications of friends, rather than the spleen of ene- 
mies, have occasioned his character being exposed in 
all its shadows, as well as its lights. But those, when 
summed and counted, amount only to a few narrow- 
minded prejudices concerning country and party, from 
which few ardent tempers remain entirely free, an over- 
zeal in politics, which is an ordinary attribute of the 
British character, and some violences and solecisms in 
manners, which left his talents, morals, and benevolence, 
M 4 



168 JOIINSONIANA. 

alike unimpeachable. (Miscellaneous Prose Works 
vol. iii. p. 267.) 

697* Sir James Mackintosh on Johnson. 

Dr. Johnson had a great influence on the taste and 
opinions of his age, not only by the popularity of his 
writings, but by that colloquial dictatorship which he 
exercised for thirty years in the literary circles of the 
capital. He was distinguished by vigorous understand- 
ing and inflexible integrity. His imagination was not 
more lively than was necessary to illustrate his maxims ; 
his attainments in science were in considerable, and in 
learning, far from the first class ; they chiefly con- 
sisted in that sort of knowledge which a powerful mind 
collects from miscellaneous reading, and various inter- 
course with mankind. From the refinements of abstruse 
speculation he was withheld partly, perhaps, by that 
repugnance to such subtleties which much experience 
often inspires, and partly also by a secret dread that 
they might disturb those prejudices in which his mind 
had found repose from the agitation of doubt. He was 
a most sagacious and severely pure judge of the actions 
and motives of men, and he was tempted by frequent 
detection of imposture to indulge somewhat of that con- 
temptuous scepticism, respecting the sincerity of delicate 
and refined sentiments, which affected his whole cha- 
racter as a man and writer. 

In early youth he had resisted the most severe tests 
of probity. Neither the extreme poverty, nor the un- 
certain income, to which the virtue of so many men of 
letters has yielded, even in the slightest degree weak* 
ened his integrity, or lowered the dignity of his inde- 
pendence. His moral principles (if the language may 
be allowed) partook of the vigour of his understanding. 
He was conscientious, sincere, determined ; and his 
pride was no more than a steady consciousness of 
superiority in the most valuable qualities of human 



MACKINTOSH. 16[) 

nature : his friendships were not only firm but generous, 
and tender beneath a rugged exterior : he wounded none 
of those feelings which the habits of his life enabled 
him to estimate ; but he had become too hardened by 
serious distress not to contract some disregard for those 
minor delicacies, which become so keenly susceptible in 
a calm and prosperous fortune. 

He was a Tory, not without some propensities to- 
wards Jacobitism, and high churchman, with more at- 
tachment to ecclesiastical authority, and a splendid 
worship, than is quite consistent with the spirit of Pro- 
testantism. On these subjects he never permitted him- 
self to doubt, nor tolerated difference of opinion in 
others. The vigour of his understanding is no more 
to be estimated by his opinions on subjects where it was 
bound by his prejudices, than the strength of a man's 
body by the effects of a limb in fetters. 3f 

His conversation, which was one of the most power- 
ful instruments of his extensive influence, was artificial, 
dogmatical, sententious, and poignant, adapted with the 
most admirable versatility to every subject as it arose, 
and distinguished by an almost unparalleled power of 
serious repartee. He seems to have considered himself 
as a sort of colloquial magistrate, who inflicted severe 
punishment from just policy. His course of life led 
him to treat those sensibilities, which such severity 
wounds, as fantastic and effeminate, and he entered 
society too late to acquire those habits of politeness 
which are a substitute for natural delicacy. 

As a man, then, Johnson had a masculine under- 
standing, clouded on important subjects by prejudice; a 
conscience pure beyond the ordinary measure of human 
virtue ; a heart full of rugged benevolence, and a dis- 
regard only for those feelings in controversy or in con- 
versation, of which he had not learnt the force, or 
which he thought himself obliged to wound. As a 
writer, he is memorable as one of those who effect a 



170 JOHNSONIAN A. 

change in the general style of a nation, and have vigour 
enough to leave the stamp of their own peculiarities 
upon their language. 

In the progress of English style, three periods may 
he easily distinguished. The first period extended 
from Sir Thomas More to Lord Clarendon. During 
great part of this period, the style partook of the rude- 
ness and fluctuation of an unformed language, in which 
use had not yet determined the words that were to be 
English. Writers had not yet discovered the combina- 
tion of words which best suits the original structure and 
immutable constitution of our language : where the 
terms were English, the arrangement was Latin — the 
exclusive language of learning, and that in which every 
truth in science, and every model of elegance, was con- 
templated by youth. For a century and a half, ineffec- 
tual attempts were made to bend our vulgar tongue to 
the genius of the language supposed to be superior ; 
and the whole of this period, though not without a 
capricious mixture of coarse idiom, may be called the 
Latin, or pedantic age, of our style. 

In the second period, which extended from the 
Restoration to the middle of the eighteenth century, a 
series of writers appeared, of less genius indeed than 
their predecessors, but more successful in their experi- 
ments to discover the mode of writing most adapted to 
the genius of the language. About the same period 
that a similar change was effected in France by Pascal, 
they began to banish from style learned as well as vulgar 
phraseology, and to confine themselves to the part of 
the language naturally used in general conversation by 
well-educated men. That middle region, which lies 
between vulgarity and pedantry, remains commonly un- 
changed, while both extremes are equally condemned to 
perpetual revolution. Those who select words from 
that permanent part of a language, and who arrange 
them according to its natural order, have discovered the 



MACKINTOSH. 171 

true secret of rendering their writings permanent, and 
of preserving that rank among the classical writers of 
their country, which men of greater intellectual power 
have failed to attain. Of these writers, whose language 
has not yet been slightly superannuated, Cowley was 
probably the earliest, as Dry den and Addison were as- 
suredly the greatest. 

The third period may be called the Rhetorical, and is 
distinguished by the prevalence of a school of writers, 
of which Johnson was the founder. The fundamental 
character of the Rhetorical style is, that it employs un- 
disguised art, where classical writers appear only to 
obey the impulse of a cultivated and adorned nature. 
As declamation is the fire of eloquence without its sub- 
stance, so rhetoric consists in the forms of eloquence 
without its spirit. In the schools of the rhetorician, 
every ornament of composition is made by a rule ; 
where ornaments are natural, the feeling from which 
they spring, if it be tempered, performs the office of 
taste, by regulating their number, and adapting them to 
the occasion ; but those who fabricate them by rule 
without this natural regulator, have no security against 
unseasonable and undistinguishing profusion. These 
writers have not the variety of nature, but the unifor- 
mity of a Dutch garden. 

As the English classical writers had been led by the 
nature of their subjects as well as the bent of their 
genius, to cultivate a temperate elegance, rather than to 
emulate the energy and grandeur of their less polished 
predecessors, so Johnson and his followers, in their 
attempt (which was partly successful) to impart more 
vigour and dignity to the general style, receded so far 
from vulgarity as to lose all ease and variety, and so 
exclusively preferred terms of Latin origin as to sacri- 
fice all that part of the English language on which its 
peculiar character depends. With Latin words they 
attempted also the renewal of those inversions and invo- 



172 JOHNSONIANA. 

lutions which the syntax of that language allows, but 
which, after a vain effort of a century, had been ba- 
nished from ours. All their words were thrown into 
one mould, and their periods came up in the same 
shape. As the mind of Johnson was robust, but neither 
nimble nor graceful, so his style, though sometimes 
significant, nervous, and even majestic, was void of all 
grace and ease, and being the most unlike of all styles 
to the natural effusion of a cultivated mind, had the 
least pretensions to the praise of eloquence. During 
the period, now near a close, in which he was a favourite 
model, a stiff symmetry and tedious monotony succeeded 
to that various music with which the taste of Addison 
diversified his periods, and to that natural imagery 
which the latter' s beautiful genius seemed with graceful 
negligence to scatter over his composition. They who 
had not fancy enough to be ornamental, sought to dis- 
tinguish themselves by being artificial; and, though 
there were some illustrious exceptions, the general style 
had all those marks of corrupt taste which Johnson 
himself had so well satirised in his commendation of 
the prose of Dryden, and of which he has admirably 
represented the opposite in his excellent criticism on 
Addison. His earlier writings abound most with ex- 
amples of these faults of style. Many of his Latin 
words in an English shape no imitator has ventured to 
adopt ; others have already dropped from the language, 
and will soon be known only in Dictionaries. 

Some heaviness and weariness must be felt by most 
readers at the perusal of essays on life and manners, 
written like the " Rambler ; " but it ought never to be 
forgotten, that the two most popular writers of the 
eighteenth century, Addison and Johnson, were such 
efficacious teachers of virtue, that their writings may be 
numbered among the causes which, in an important de- 
gree, have contributed to preserve and to improve the 
morality of the British nation. 



MACKINTOSH. 173 

His Dictionary, though distinguished neither by the 
philosophy nor by the erudition which illustrate the 
origin and history of words, is a noble monument of 
his powers and his literary knowledge, and even of his 
industry, though it betrays frequent symptoms of that 
constitutional indolence which must have so often over- 
powered him in so ifomense a labour. 

Towards the end of his life, when intercourse with the 
world had considerably softened his style, he published 
his " Lives of the English Poets/' a work of which the 
subject insures popularity, and on which his fame 
probably now depends. He seems to have poured 
into it the miscellaneous information which he had 
collected, and the literary opinions which he had 
formed, during his long reign over the literature of 
London. The critical part has produced the warmest 
agitations of literary faction. The time may, perhaps, 
now be arrived for an impartial estimate of its merits. 
Whenever understanding alone is sufficient for poetical 
criticism, the decisions of Johnson are generally right. 
But the beauties of poetry must be felt before their 
causes are investigated. There is a poetical sensibility 
which, in the progress of the mind, becomes as distinct 
a power as a musical ear or a picturesque eye. With- 
out a considerable degree of this sensibility, it is as vain 
for a man of the greatest understanding to speak of the 
higher beauties of poetry, as it is for a blind man to 
speak of colours. To adopt the warmest sentiments of 
poetry, to realise its boldest imagery, to yield to every 
impulse of enthusiasm, to submit to the illusions of 
fancy, to retire with the poet into his ideal worlds, were 
dispositions wholly foreign from the worldly sagacity and 
stern shrewdness of Johnson .... If this unpoetical 
character be considered, if the force of prejudice be 
estimated, if we bear in mind that in this work of his 
old age we must expect to find him enamoured of every 
paradox which he had supported with brilliant success, 



174 JOHNSONIAN A. 

and that an old man seldom warmly admires these 
works which have appeared since his sensibility has 
become sluggish, and his literary system formed, we 
shall be able to account for most of the unjust judg- 
ments of Johnson, without recourse to any suppositions 
inconsistent with honesty and integrity. 

As in his judgment of life and character, so in his 
criticism on poetry, he was a sort of Freethinker. He 
suspected the refined of affectation, he rejected the en- 
thusiastic as absurd, and he took it for granted that the 
mysterious was unintelligible. He came into the world 
when the school of Dry den and Pope gave the law to 
English poetry. In that school he had himself learned 
to be a lofty and vigorous declaimer in harmonious 
verse ; beyond that school his unforced admiration 
perhaps scarcely soared ; and his highest effort of criti- 
cism was accordingly the noble panegyric on Dry den. 
His criticism owed its popularity as much to its defects 
as to its excellences. It was on a level with the ma- 
jority of readers — persons of good sense and informa- 
tion, but of no exquisite sensibility ; and to their minds 
it derived a false appearance of solidity from that very 
narrowness which excluded those grander efforts of 
imagination to which Aristotle and Bacon confined the 
name of poetry. 

Among the victories gained by Milton, one of the 
most signal is that which he obtained over all the pre- 
judices of Johnson, who was compelled to make a most 
vigorous, though evidently reluctant, effort to do justice 
to the fame and genius of the greatest of English poets. 
The alacrity with which he seeks every occasion to 
escape from this painful duty in observation upon Mil- 
ton's Life and Minor Poems, sufficiently attest the irre- 
sistible power of " Paradise Lost." As he had no feel- 
ing of the lively and graceful, we must not w T onder at 
his injustice to Prior. Some accidental impression^ 
concurring with a long habit of indulging and venting 



JOHNSONIANA. 17o 

every singularity, seems necessary to account for his 
having forgotten that Swift was a wit. As the Seasons 
appeared during the susceptible part of Johnson's life, 
his admiration of Thompson prevailed over that ludi- 
crous prejudice which he professed against Scotland, 
perhaps because it was a Presbyterian country. His 
insensibility to the higher order of poetry, his dislike of 
a Whig university, and his scorn of a fantastic character, 
combined to produce that monstrous example of critical 
injustice which he entitles the Life of Gray. 

Such is the character which may be bestowed on 
Johnson by those who feel a profound reverence for his 
virtues, and a respect approaching to admiration for his 
intellectual powers, without adopting his prejudices^ or 
being insensible to his defects. (Memoirs of Sir Jamc* 
Mackintosh, 1835, vol. ii. p. 1 66.) 

698. Johnson s Epitaph on Mr. Thrale. 

Of his departed friend (says Dr. Anderson), Johnson 
has given a true character in a Latin epitaph, inscribed 
on his monument in Streatham church. Besides the 
example of affecting gratitude which it records, it is pre- 
served here as an instance of the facility with which the 
heart of a friend finds topics of praise, to endear a 
worthy man to posterity, without falsehood or adulation. 
The morality of the conclusion is striking and instruc- 
tive : — 

" In the same tomb lie interred his father, Ralph Thrale, a 
man of vigour and activity, and his only son, Henry, who died 
before his father, aged ten years. Thus a happy and opulent 
family, raised by the grandfather, and augmented by the father, 
became extinguished with the grandson. Go, reader ; and, re- 
flecting on the vicissitudes of all human affairs, meditate on 
eternity ! n 



176 JOHNSCNIANA. 

B/z conditur quod reliquum est 

Henrici Thrale, 

Qui res seu civiles, seu domesticas, ita egit, 

Ut vitam illi longiorem multi optarent ; 

Ita sacras, 

Ut quam brevem esset habiturus praescire videretur ; 

Simplex, apertus, sibique semper similis 

Nihil ostentavit aut arte fictum aut cur 

Elaboratum. 

In senatu, regi patriseque 

Fideliter studuit ; 

Vulgi obstrepentis contemptor animosus, 

Domi inter mille mercaturae negotia 

Literarum elegantiam minime neglexit. 

Amicis quocunque modo laborantibus 

Conciliis, auctoritate, muneribus, adfuit. 

Inter familiares, comites, con vivas, hospites, 

Tarn facili fuit morum suavitate 

Ut omnium animos ad se alliceret ; 

Tarn felici sermonis libertate 
Ut nulli adulatus, omnibus placeret. 
Natus 1724. Obiit 1781. 
Consortes tumuli habet Rodolphum patrem, strenuum 

Fortemque virum, et Henricum filium unicum, 

Quern spei parentum mors inopina decennem praeripuit. 

Ita 

Domus felix et opulenta, quam erexit 

Avus, auxitque pater, cum nepote decidit. 

Abi Viator ! 

Et vicibus rerum humanarum perspectis, 

iEternitatem cogita ! 



699. Johnsons Epitaph on his Father, Mother, and 
Brother. 

A few days before his death Johnson composed the 
following epitaph for his father, mother, and brother; 
and wrote to Mr. Green, of Lichfield, desiring that it 
might be " engraved on a stone, deep, massy, and 



JOHNSONIAN A. J 77 

hard/' laid on the exact place of interment, in the 
middle aisle of St. Michael's church ; and hoped (< it 
might be done while he was yet alive." Q) 



H. S. E. 

Michael Johnson, 
Vir impavidus, constans, animosus, periculorum immeraor, la- 
borum patientissimus ; fiducia Christiana fortis, fervidusque, 
pater-familias apprime strenuus ; bibliopola admodum peritus ; 
mente et libris et negotiis exculta ; animo ita firmo, ut, rebus 
adversis diu conflicatus, nee sibi nee suis defuerit: lingua sic 
temperata, ut ei nihil quod aures, vel pias, vel castas lsesisset, 
aut dolor, vel voluptas unquam expresserit. 

Natus Cubleiae, in agro Derbiensi, Anno 1656. 
Obiit 1731. 

Apposita est Sara, conjux. 
Antiqua Fordorum gente oriunda ; quam domi sedulam, for s 
paucis notam ; nulli molestam, mentis acumine et judicii sub- 
tilitate praecellentem ; aliis multum, sibi parum indulgentem : 
iEternitati semper attentam, omne fere virtutis nomen com- 
mendavit. 

Nata Nortoniae Regis, in agro Varvicensi, Anno 1669; 
Obiit 1759. 

Cum Natha^naele illorum filio, qui natus 1712, cum vires et 
animi, et corporis multa pcllicerentur, Anno 1737, vitam brevem 
pia morte finivit. 

TOO. Busts of Johnson and Garrich in Lichfield 
Cathedral. 

In the Dean's consistory court, adjoining the south 
transept of the cathedral church of Lichfield^ a bust has 
been erected, with the following inscription : — 

(1) [See ante, Vol. VIII. p. 391.] 
VOL. X. N 



178 JOHNSONIANA. 



The Friends of Samuel Johnson, ll.d., 

A native of Lichfield, 

Erected this Monument, 

As a tribute of respect to the memory of 

A man of extensive learning, 

A distinguished moral writer, and a sincere Christian. 

He died the 13th of December, 1784, aged 75 years. 

Near it is a similar bust of Garrick, erected by his 
relict, after a design of the same artists, Wyatt, archi- 
tect, and Westmacott, sculptor, with the following in- 
scription, combining the desiderium chari conjugis, with 
Johnson's emphatic eulogy on the dramatic talents of 
his deceased friend : — 

Eva Maria, relict of David Garrick, Esq. 
caused this monument to be erected to the memory 

of her beloved husband ; 

who died the 20th of January, 1779, aged 63 years. 

He had not only the amiable qualities of private life, 

but such astonishing dramatic talents, 

as too well verified the observation of his friend, 

" His death eclipsed the gaiety of nations, 

and impoverished the public stock of harmless pleasure." 

701 . Further Anecdotes of Johnsons Parents. 

Of Michael Johnson little is generally known, beyond 
the fact that he was a tradesman at Lichfield ; and no 
attempt has hitherto been made to bring into one point 
the few particulars concerning him that lie scattered 
through various volumes. Yet this would appear to be 
a mark of respect due, if not to his own merit, to that 
of his admirable son ; and in the hope that it may in- 
cite some one to undertake a more finished composition, 
the subjoined outline of a memoir has been compiled. 

He was a native of Derbyshire; but of origin so ob- 
scure, that Dr. Johnson once said to Boswell, " I have 
great merit in being zealous for the honours of birth 



JOHNSONIANA. 179 

for I can hardly tell who was my grandfather." He 
married, at a somewhat advanced age, one Sarah Ford, 
by whom he had two sons ; but the period of his set- 
tling at Lichfield is doubtful, though it certainly was 
some time prior to the close of the seventeenth century, 
as I find his name anno 1687, in a list of subscribers 
to a fund for recasting the bells of the Cathedral, to- 
wards which he contributed 10s. In 1709 he was 
sheriff of the city ; and in the same year was born his 
celebrated son, whose baptism is thus recorded in the 
Register of St. Michael's Church : — 

" Sept. 17. 1709, Samuel, son of Michael Johnson, Gent, 
baptized." 

One of his godfathers was Dr. Swinfen, a physician 
of the city. Three years after, the baptism of his bro- 
ther is thus entered in the same Register : — 

" Oct. 14. 1712, Nathaniel, son of Mr. Michael Johnson, 
baptized." 

The circumstances of Michael Johnson appear to 
have been for many years extremely narrow ; but by 
untiring industry, he at length acquired some little pro- 
perty, which he lost by speculating in the manufacture 
of parchment, and became a bankrupt in 1731, while 
his son Samuel was at Oxford. The generous assistance 
which on this occasion he received from various quar- 
ters, seems to prove that his character was held in great 
esteem. Dr. Johnson told Sir John Hawkins that, 
amongst others, Mr. Innys, bookseller of St. Paul's 
Church-yard, was a material friend ; ' c and this/' said 
he, " I consider as an obligation on me to be grateful 
to his descendants," to whom he accordingly bequeathed 
200/. Soon after his insolvency took place, Michael 
died, and the sum of 2GL was all that his son received 
from the produce of his effects. 

It is a fact but little known, and which escaped the 
v 2 



180 JOHNSONIANA. 

industrious inquiry of Boswell, that during the two 
years which he passed at home, before proceeding to 
Oxford, Dr. Johnson was engaged in learning his 
father's business. The " Short Account of Lichfield/' 
1819, says that <€ books of his binding are still extant 
in that city." It was at this period, I presume, that 
in a fit of pride he once refused obedience to his father, 
who desired him to attend the book-stall at Uttoxeter 
market; in contrition for which, towards the close of 
his life, (as he told the Rev. H. White,) he repaired 
to the spo^ and stood for a considerable time bareheaded 
in the rain, by way of expiatory penance. 

Michael Johnson's practice of visiting the market 
towns of Staffordshire and the adjoining counties, to 
dispose of his books, has already been mentioned. (*) 
The house at the corner of Sadler Street, Lichfield, 
in which Michael Johnson resided, and in which Samuel 
was born, is still standing. Views of it occur in the 
Gentleman's Magazine, February, 1785 ; in the " Short 
Account of Lichfield," above mentioned ; and in various 
other works. It was built by Michael Johnson on land 
belonging to the Corporation, in whose records there 
appears this entry, under date 13th July, 1708 : — 

" Agreed that Mr. Michael Johnson, bookseller, have a lease 
of his encroachment of his house in Sadler Street and Women's 
Cheaping, for forty years, at 2s. 6d. per annum. " 

Boswell has preserved the particulars of a proceeding, 
in which the bailiffs and eitizens, to their great honour, 
on the expiration of a second lease in 1 767, resolved 
that it should be renewed to Dr. Johnson for a further 
term of ninety years, at the old rent, and without pay- 
ment of any fine. 

After her husband's decease, Johnson's mother con- 
tinued the business, though of course on a more con- 

(l) See Vol. I. p. 314. 



JOHNSONIANA. 181 

tracted scale. Among the names of subscribers to the 
c< Harleian Miscellany/ ' there occurs that of (i Sarah 
Johnson, bookseller, in Lichfield." The humble na- 
ture of her establishment may be gathered from a pas- 
sage in Miss Seward's Correspondence, where she says 
of Lucy Porter, " from the age of twenty she boarded 
in Lichfield, with Dr. Johnson's mother, who still kept 
that bookseller's shop, by which her husband supplied 
the scanty means of existence. Meantime, Lucy kept 
the best company of our little city, but would make no 
engagement on market-days, lest granny, as she called 
Mrs. Johnson, should catch cold by serving in the shop. 
There Lucy Porter took her place, standing behind the 
counter, nor thought it a disgrace to thank a poor per- 
son who purchased from her a penny battledore." One 
of Lucy's brothers subsequently bequeathed her a hand- 
some property, with part of which she built herself a 
commodious house in Tamworth Street, Lichfield, where 
she ended her days, in January 1796, aged 70 years, 
and lies buried in the Church of St. Chad. {Gent. 
Mag., Oct. 1829-) 

702. Singular Misquotation. 
There is a curious error in Dr. Johnson's Dictionary 
which has not hitherto been noticed. It occurs in De- 
finition 13. of the verb " To sit," and pervades every 
edition that I have yet seen, even Mr. Todd's. " Asses 
are ye that sit in judgement. Judges, v. 10." The 
verse is — c< Speak, ye that ride on white asses, ye that 
sit in judgment, and walk by the way." Were not Dr. 
Johnson's reverence for the Scriptures too well known 
to allow us to imagine that he would wilfully pervert 
them ; we might suppose that he, who gave the defini- 
tion of Excise and Renegado, had intended, by antici- 
pation, to express his opinion of the censure of his 
critics. 

n 3 



182 JOHNSONIANA 



Part XXXIII. 

JEUX D'ESPRIT ON JOHNSON'S BIO- 
GRAPHERS. 



No. I.— LESSON IN BIOGRAPHY; 

OB, HOW TO WRITE THE LIFE OF ONe's FRIEND. 

An Extract from the Life of Dr. Pozz, in ten volumes folio, 
written by James Bozz, Esq., who flourished with him near 
fifty years. 

By Alexander Chalmers,, Esq. ( ] ) 

We dined at the chop-house. Dr. Pozz was this day- 
very instructive. We talked of books. I mentioned 
the History of Tommy Trip. I said it was a great 
work. Pozz. cc Yes, Sir, it is a great work ; but, Sir, 
it is a great work relatively ; it was a great work to 
you when you was a little boy : but now, Sir, you are a 
great man, and Tommy Trip is a little boy." I felt 
somewhat hurt at this comparison, and I believe he per- 
ceived it ; for, as he was squeezing a lemon, he said, 
" Never be affronted at a comparison. I have been 
compared to many things, but I never was affronted. 
No, Sir, if they would call me a dog, and you a ca- 
nister tied to my tail, I would not be affronted." 

Cheered by this kind mention of me, though in such 
a situation, I asked him what he thought of a friend of 

(1) Among the numerous parodies and jeux oV esprit which 
Mr. Boswell's work produced, this pleasantry from the pen of 
Mr. Alexander Chalmers, which appeared in the periodical 
publications of the day, is worth preserving ; for it is not merely 
a good pleasantry, but a fair criticism of some of the lighter 
parts of the work. — . C. 



JEUX D'ESPRIT. — CHALMERS. 183 

ours, who was always making comparisons. Pozz. 
" Sir, that fellow has a simile for every thing but him- 
self. I knew him when he kept a shop : he then made 
money, Sir, and now he makes comparisons. Sir, he 
would say that you and I were two figs stuck together ; 
two figs in adhesion, Sir ; and then he would laugh/' 
Bozz. " But have not some great writers determined 
that comparisons are now and then odious?'' Pozz. 
" No, Sir, not odious in themselves, not odious as com- 
parisons ; the fellows who make them are odious. The 
Whigs make comparisons/' 

We supped that evening at his house. I showed 
him some lines I had made upon a pair of breeches. 
Pozz. :c Sir, the lines are good ; but where could you 
find such a subject in your country ?" Bozz. " There- 
fore it is a proof of invention, which is a characteristic 
of poetry/' Pozz. " Yes, Sir, but an invention which 
few of your countrymen can enjoy/' I reflected after- 
wards on the depth of this remark : it affords a proof of 
that acuteness which he displayed in every branch 
of literature. I asked him if he approved of green 
spectacles ? Pozz. " As to green spectacles, Sir, the 
question seems to be this : if I wore green spectacles, it 
would be because they assisted vision, or because I liked 
them. Now, Sir, if a man tells me he does not like 
green spectacles, and that they hurt his eyes, I would 
not compel him to wear them. No, Sir, I would 
dissuade him." A few months after, I consulted him 
again on this subject, and he honoured me with a letter, 
in which he gives the same opinion. It will be found 
in its proper place, Vol. VI. p. 2789- I have thought 
much on this subject, and must confess that in such 
matters a man ought to be a free moral agent. 

Next day I left town, and was absent for six weeks, 
three days, and seven hours, as I find by a memoran- 
dum in my journal. In this time I had only one 
letter from him, which is as follows : — 
n 4« 



184 JOHNSONIANA. 

" TO JAMES BOZZ, ESQ. 

" Dear Sir, — My bowels have been very bad. Pray buy 
me some Turkey rhubarb, and bring with you a copy of your 
* Tour.' 

" Write to me soon, and write to me often. I am, dear Sir, 
yours, affectionately, Sam. Pozz." 

It would have been unpardonable to have omitted a 
letter like this, in which we see so much of his 
great and illuminated mind. On my return to town, 
we met again at the chop-house. We had much con- 
versation to-day: his wit flashed like lightning: indeed 
there is not one hour of my present life in which I do 
not profit by some of his valuable communications. 

We talked of wind. I said I knew many persons 
much distressed with that complaint. Pozz. " Yes, Sir, 
when confined, when pent up." I said I did not know 
that, but I questioned if the Romans ever knew it. 
Pozz. " Yes, Sir, the Romans knew it." Bozz. " Livy 
does not mention it." Pozz. cc No, Sir, Livy wrote 
History. Livy was not writing the Life of a Friend." 

On medical subjects his knowledge was immense. He 
told me of a friend of ours who had just been attacked 
by a most dreadful complaint : he had entirely lost the 
use of his limbs, so that he could neither stand nor walk, 
unless supported ; his speech was quite gone ; his eyes 
were much swollen, and every vein distended, yet his 
face was rather pale, and his extremities cold; his pulse 
beat 160 in a minute. I said, with tenderness, that I 
would go and see him ; and, said I, " Sir, I will take 
Dr. Bolus with me." Pozz. e ' No, Sir, don't go." I was 
startled, for I knew his compassionate heart, and 
earnestly asked why ? Pozz. " Sir, you don't know his 
disorder." Bozz. " Pray what is it ? " Pozz. " Sir, 
the man is — dead drunk ! " This explanation threw 
me into a violent fit of laughter, in which he joined me, 
rolling about as he used to do when he enjoyed a joke ; 



JEUX D'ESPRIT. — CHALMERS. 185 

but he afterwards checked me. Pozz. " Sir, you ought 
not to laugh at what I said. Sir, he who laughs at 
what another man says, will soon learn to laugh at that 
other man. Sir, you should laugh only at your own 
jokes ; you should laugh seldom/' 

We talked of a friend of ours who was a very violent 
politician. I said I did not like his company. Pozz. 
"No, Sir, he is not healthy ; he is sore, Sir; his mind 
is ulcerated ; he has a political whitlow ; Sir, you can- 
not touch him without giving him pain. Sir, I would 
not talk politics with that man ; I would talk of 
cabbage and peas : Sir, I would ask him how he got 
his corn in, and whether his wife was with child ; but 
I would not talk politics/' Bozz. "But perhaps, Sir, 
he would talk of nothing else/' Pozz. " Then, Sir, it is 
plain what he would do." On my very earnestly in- 
quiring what that was, Dr. Pozz answered, u Sir, he 
would let it alone." 

I mentioned a tradesman who had lately set up his 
coach. Pozz. " He is right, Sir ; a man who would go 
on swimmingly cannot get too soon off his legs. That 
man keeps his coach. Now, Sir, a coach is better than 
a chaise, Sir — it is better than a chariot/' Bozz. 
"Why, Sir?" Pozz. " Sir, it will hold more." I 
begged he would repeat this, that I might remember 
it, and he complied with great good humour. " Dr. 
Pozz," said I, "you ought to keep a coach." Pozz. 
" Yes, Sir, I ought." Bozz. " But you do not, and 
that has often surprised me." Bozz. " Surprised you ! 
There, Sir, is another prejudice of absurdity. Sir, you 
ought to be surprised at nothing. A man that has lived 
half your days ought to be above all surprise. Sir, it 
is a rule with me never to be surprised. It is mere 
ignorance ; you cannot guess why I do not keep a coach, 
and you are surprised. Now, Sir, if you did know, you 
would not be surprised." I said, tenderly, " I hope, 
my dear Sir, you will let me know before I leave town/' 



186 



JOHNSONIANA. 



Pozz. cc Yes, Sir, you shall know now. You shall not 
go to Mr. Wilkins, and to Mr. Jenkins, and to Mr. 
Stubbs, and say, why does not Pozz keep a coach ? I 
will tell you myself — Sir, I can't afford it." 

We talked of drinking. I asked him whether, in 
the course of his long and valuable life, he had not 
known some men who drank more than they could 
bear? Pozz. "Yes, Sir; and then, Sir, nobody could 
bear them. A man who is drunk, Sir, is a very foolish 
fellow." Bozz. " But, Sir, as the poet says, ' he is 
devoid of all care/ " Pozz. " Yes, Sir, he cares for 
nobody ; he has none of the cares of life : he cannot be 
a merchant, Sir, for he cannot write his name ; he can- 
not be a politician, Sir, for he cannot talk ; he cannot 
be an artist, Sir, for he cannot see ; and yet, Sir, there 
is science in drinking." Bozz. " I suppose you mean 
that a man ought to know what he drinks." Pozz. " No, 
Sir, to know what one drinks is nothing; but the 
science consists of three parts. Now, Sir, were I to 
drink wine, I should wish to know them all ; I should 
wish to know when I had too little, when I had enough, 
and when I had too much. There is our friend 
******* (mentioning a gentleman of our acquaint - 
ance) ; he knows when he has too little, and when he 
has too much, but he knows not when he has enough. 
Now, Sir, that is the science of drinking, to know when 
one has enough." 

We talked this day on a variety of topics, but I find 
very few memorandums in my journal. On small beer, 
he said it was flatulent liquor. He disapproved of those 
who deny the utility of absolute power, and seemed to be 
offended with a friend of ours who would always have 
his eggs poached. Sign-posts, he observed, had dege- 
nerated within his memory ; and he particularly found 
fault with the moral of the " Beggar's Opera/' I en- 
deavoured to defend a work which had afforded me so 
much pleasure, but could not master that strength of mind 



JEUX D'ESPRIT. — CHALMERS. 187 

with which he argued ; and it was with great satisfac- 
tion that he communicated to me afterwards a method 
of curing corns by applying a piece of oiled silk. In 
the early history of the world,, he preferred Sir Isaac 
Newton's Chronology ; but as they gave employment to 
useful artisans, he did not dislike the large buckles then 
coming into use. 

Next day we dined at the Mitre. I mentioned 
spirits. Pozz. iC Sir, there is as much evidence for the 
existence of spirits as against it. You may not believe 
it, but you cannot deny it." I told him that my great 
grandmother once saw a spirit. He asked me to relate 
it, which I did very minutely, while he listened with 
profound attention. When I mentioned that the spirit 
once appeared in the shape of a shoulder of mutton, 
and another time in that of a tea-pot, he interrupted 
me : — Pozz. (( There, Sir, is the point ; the evidence 
is good, but the scheme is defective in consistency. We 
cannot deny that the spirit appeared in these shapes ; 
but then we cannot reconcile them. What has a tea- 
pot to do with a shoulder of mutton ? Neither is it a 
terrific object. There is nothing contemporaneous. 
Sir, these are objects which are not seen at the same 
time nor in the same place." Bozz. " I think, Sir, 
that old women in general are used to see ghosts." 
Pozz. {( Yes, Sir, and their conversation is full of the 
subject : I would have an old woman to record such 
conversations ; their loquacity tends to minuteness/' 

W r e talked of a person who had a very bad character. 
Pozz. " Sir, he is a scoundrel." Bozz. " I hate a 
scoundrel.'' Pozz. u There you are wrong : don't hate 
scoundrels. Scoundrels, Sir, are useful. There are 
many things we cannot do without scoundrels. I would 
not choose to keep company with scoundrels, but some- 
thing may be got from them/' Bozz. "Are not 
scoundrels generally fools ? " Pozz. " No, Sir., they are 
not. A scoundrel must be a clever fellow ; he must know 



IS8 JOHNSONIANA. 

many things of which a fool is ignorant. Any man may 
be a fool. I think a good book might be made out of 
scoundrels. I would have a Biographia Flagitiosa, the 
Lives of Eminent Scoundrels, from the earliest accounts 
to the present day." I mentioned hanging : I thought 
it a very awkward situation. Pozz. " No, Sir, hanging 
is not an awkward situation ; it is proper, Sir, that a 
man whose actions tend towards flagitious obliquity 
should appear perpendicular at last." I told him that I 
had lately been in company with some gentlemen, every 
one of whom could recollect some friend or other who 
had been hanged. Pozz. " Yes, Sir, that is the easiest 
way. We know those who have been hanged ; we can 
recollect that : but we cannot number those who de- 
serve it ; it would not be decorous, Sir, in a mixed 
company. No, Sir, that is one of the few things which 
we are compelled to think." 

Our regard for literary property Q) prevents our 
making a larger extract from the above important work. 
We have, however, we hope, given such passages as will 
tend to impress our readers with a high idea of this vast 
undertaking. — Note by the Author. 

(1) This alludes to the jealousy about copyright, which 
Mr. Boswell carried so far that he actually printed separately, 
and entered at Stationers* Hall, Johnson's Letter to Lord Ches- 
terfield (ante, Vol. II. p. 7. ), and the Account of Johnson's 
Conversation with George III. at Buckingham House (VoL 
III. p. 19.), to prevent his rivals making use of them. — C. 



jeux d'esprit. 189 

No. II.— DR. JOHNSON'S GHOST 

[From the Gentleman's Magazine, Vol. lvi. p. 427.] 

' Twas at the solemn hour of night, 

When men and spirits meet, 
That Johnson, huge majestic sprite, 

Repair'd to Boswell's feet. 

His face was like the full-orb'd moon 

Wrapt in a threatening cloud, 
That bodes the tempest bursting soon, 

And winds that bluster loud. 

Terrific was his angry look, 

His pendent eyebrows frown'd ; 
Thrice in his hand he wav'd a book, 

Then dash'd it on the ground. 

* Behold," he cry'd, " perfidious man ! 
This object of my rage : 
Bethink thee of the sordid plan 
That form'd this venal page. 

" Was it to make this base record, 
That you my friendship sought ; 
Thus to retain each vagrant word, 
Each undigested thought ? 

" Dar'st tnou pretend that, meaning praise 
Thou seek'st to raise my name ; 
When all thy babbling pen betrays 
But gives me churlish fame ? 

" Do readers in these annals trace 
The man that's wise and good ? 
No ! — rather one of savage race, 
Illib'ral, fierce, and rude: 



190 JOHNSONIANA. 

" A traveller, whose discontent 
No kindness can appease ; 
Who finds for spleen perpetual vent 
In all he hears and sees : 

" One whose ingratitude displays 
The most ungracious guest ; 
Who hospitality repays 
With bitter, biting jest. 

■* Ah ! would, as o'er the hills we sped, 
And climb'd the sterile rocks, 
Some vengeful stone had struck thee dead. 
Or steeple, spar'd by Knox ! 

" Thy adulation now I see, 

And all its schemes unfold : 
Thy av'rice, Bos well, cherish 'd me, 
To turn me into gold. 

" So keepers guard the beasts they show,, 
And for their wants provide ; 
Attend their steps where'er they go, 
And travel by their side. 

* O ! were it not that, deep and low, 

Beyond thy reach I'm laid, 

Rapacious Boswell had ere now 

Johnson a mummy made;" 

He ceas d. and stalk'd from Boswell's sight 

With fierce indignant mien, 
Scornful as Ajax' sullen sprite, 

By sage Ulysses seen. 

Dead paleness Boswell's cheek overspread, 
His limbs with horror shook ; 

With trembling haste he left his bed, 
And burnt his fatal book. 



JEUX D ESPRIT. — COLMAN. 191 

And thrice he call'd on Johnson's name, 

Forgiveness to implore ! 
Then thrice repeated — " injured fame ! " 

And wo rd — wrote never more. 



No. Ill— A POSTHUMOUS WORK OF S. JOHN- 
SON. 

An Ode. April 15. 1786. 

By George Colman, Esq. 

St. Paul's deep bell, from stately tow'r, 
Had sounded once and twice the hour, 

Blue burnt the midnight taper ; 
Hags their dark spells o'er cauldron brew 'a, 
While Sons of Ink their work pursu'd, 

Printing the Morning Paper. 

Say, Herald, Chronicle, or Post, 

Which then beheld great Johnson's Ghost, 

Grim, horrible, and squalid ? 
Compositors their letters dropt, 
Pressmen their groaning engine stopt, 

And Devils all grew pallid. 

Enough ! the Spectre cried ; Enough ! 
No more of your fugacious stuff, 

Trite Anecdotes and Stories ; 
Rude Martyrs of Sam. Johnson's name, 
You rob him of his honest fame, 

.And tarnish all his glories. 



192 JOHNSONIANA. 

First in the futile tribe is seen 
Tom Tyers in the Magazine, 

That teazer of Apollo ! 
With goose-quill he, like desperate knife. 
Slices, as Vauxhall beef, my life, 

And calls the town to swallow. 

The cry once up, the Dogs of News, 
Who hunt for paragraphs the stews, 

Yelp OUt JOHNSONIANA I 

Their nauseous praise but moves my bile, 
Like Tartar, Carduus, Camomile, 
Or Ipecacuanha. 

Next Bos well comes (for 't was my lot 
To find at last one honest Scot) 

With constitutional vivacity ; 
Yet garrulous, he tells too xr:uch, 
On fancied failings prone to touch, 

With sedulous loquacity. 

At length — Job's patience it would tire — 
Brew'd on my lees, comes Thrale's Entire^ 

Straining to draw my picture ; 
For She a common-place-book kept, 
Johnson at Streatham dined and slept, 

And who shall contradict her * 

Thrale, lost 'mongst Fidlers and Sopranos, 
With them play Fortes and Pianos, 

Adagio and Allegro ! 
I lov'd Thrale's widow and Thrale's wife : 
But now, believe, to write my life 

I'i rather trust my Negro. (I) 



1 His black servant 



JEUX d'eSPRIT. PETER PINDAR. 193 

I gave the Public works of merit, 
Written with vigour, fraught with spirit ; 

Applause crown'd all my labours: 
But thy delusive pages speak 
My palsied pow'rs, exhausted, weak, 

The scoff of friends and neighbours. 

They speak me insolent and rude, 
Light, trivial, puerile, and crude, 

The child of Pride and Vanity ; 
Poor Tuscan like Improvisation 
Is but of English sense castration, 

And infantine inanity. 

Such idle rhymes, like Sybil's leaves, 
Kindly the scatt'ring wind receives ; 

The gath'rer proves a scorner. 
But hold ! I see the coming day ! 
— The Spectre said, and stalk'd away 

To sleep in Poet's Corner. 



No. IV.— A POETICAL AND CONGRATULATORY 

EPISTLE TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 

On his Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides, with the celebrated 
Doctor Johnson ; 

By Peter Pindar, Esq. () 



— Teuitra* IZoC/.iro xvZog o*£|«i. Homer. 

O Boswell, Bozzy, Bruce, whate'er thy name, 
Thou mighty shark for anecdote and fame ; 
Thou jackall, leading lion Johnson forth, 
To eat M'Pherson 'midst his native North ; 

[(1) Dr. Wolcot, published in 1787.] 
VOL. X. O 



194 J0HNS0N1ANA. 

To frighten grave professors with his roar, 
And shake the Hebrides from shore to shore — 
All hail ! — At length, ambitious Thane, thy rage, 
To give one spark to Fame's bespangled page, 
Is amply gratified — a thousand eyes 
Survey thy books with rapture and surprise ! 
Loud, of thy Tour, a thousand tongues have spoken, 
And wondered — that thy bones were never broken ! 

Triumphant thou through Time's vast gulf shalt sail, 
The pilot of our literary whale ; 
Close to the classic Rambler shalt thou cling, 
Close as a supple courtier to a king ! 
Fate shall not shake thee off, with all its power, 
Stuck, like a bat to some old ivied tower. 
Nay, though thy Johnson ne'er had blessed thy eyes, 
Paoli's deeds had raised thee to the skies ! 
Yes ! his broad wing had raised thee (no bad hack) 
A torn- tit, twittering on an eagle's back. 

Thou, curious scrapmonger, shalt live in song, 
When death hath still'd the rattle of thy tongue ; 
Fven future babes to lisp thy name shall learn, 
And Bozzy join with Wood, and Tommy Hearn, 
Who drove the spiders from much prose and rhyme, 
Arid snatch'd old stories from the jaws of time. 

Sweet is thy page, I ween, that doth recite, 
How thou and Johnson, arm in arm, one night, 
Marched through fair Edinburgh's Pactolian showers, 
Which Cloacina bountifully pours ; 

Those gracious showers, that, fraught with fragrance, flow, 
And gild, like gingerbread, the world below. 
How sweetly grumbled, too, was Sam's remark, 
«' I smell you, master Bozzy, in the dark ! " 
Alas ! historians are confounded dull, 
A dim Bceotia reigns in every skull ; 



JEUX D*ESPRIT. PETER PINDAR. 195 

Mere beasts of burden, broken-winded, slow, 
Heavy as dromedaries, on they go, 
Whilst thou, a Will-o'-wisp, art here, art there, 
Wild darting coruscations every where. 

What tasteless mouth can gape, what eye can close, 
What head can nod, o'er thy enlivening prose ? 
To others' works, the works of thy inditing 
Are downright diamonds, to the eyes of whiting. 
Think not I natter thee, my flippant friend ; 
For well I know, that flattery would offend : 
Yet honest praise, I'm sure, thou wouldst not shun, 
Born with a stomach to digest a tun ! 
Who can refuse a smile, that reads thy page, 
Where surly Sam, inflamed with Tory rage, 
Nassau bescoundrels, and with anger big, 
Swears, Whigs are rogues, and every rogue a Whig ? 
Who will not, too, thy pen's minutia bless, 
That gives posterity the Rambler's dress ? 
Methinks I view his full, plain suit of brown, 
The large grey bushy wig, that graced his crown ; 
Black worsted stockings, little silver buckles ; 
And shirt, that had no ruffles for his knuckles. 
I mark the brown great-coat of cloth he wore, 
That two huge Patagonian pockets bore, 
Which Patagonians (wondrous to unfold!) 
Would fairly both his Dictionaries hold. 
I see the Rambler on a large bay mare, 
Just like a Centaur, every danger dare ; 
On a full gallop dash the yielding wind ; 
The colt and Bozzy scampering close behind. 

Of Lady Lochbuy with what glee we read, 
Who offer'd Sam, for breakfast, cold sheep's head ; 
Who, press'd and worried by this dame so civil, 
Wished the sheep's head, and woman's at the devil. 
o 2 



195 JOHNSONIANA. 

I see you sailing both in Buchan's pot — 
Now storming an old woman and her cot, 
Who, terrified at each tremendous shape, 
Deem'd you two demons, ready for a rape : 
I see all marvelling at M'Leod's together, 
On Sam's remarks on whey, and tanning leathers 
At Corrichatachin's the Lord knows how, 
I see thee, Bozzy, drunk as David's sow, 
And begging, with raised eyes and length en'd chin, 
Heaven not to damn thee for the deadly sin : 
I see, too, the stern moralist regale, 
And pen a Latin ode to Mrs. Thrale. 
I see, without a night-cap on his head* 
Rare sight! bald Sam, in the Pretender's bed: 
I hear (what's wonderful !) unsought by studying, 
His classic dissertation upon pudding : 
Of provost Jopp I mark the marvelling face, 
Who gave the Rambler's freedom with a grace : 
I see, too, travelling from the Isle of Egg, 
The humble servant of a horse's leg ; 
And Snip, the tailor, from the Isle of Muck, 
Who stitch'd in Sky with tolerable luck : 
I see the horn, that drunkards must adore ; 
The horn, the mighty horn of Rorie More ; 
And bloody shields, that guarded hearts in quarrels, 
Now guard from rats the milk and butter barrels, 
Methinks, the Caledonian dame I see, 
Familiar sitting on the Rambler's knee, 
Charming, with kisses sweet, the chuckling sage ; 
Melting, with sweetest smiles, the frost of age ; 
Like Sol, who darts, at times, a cheerful ray, 
O'er the wan visage of a winter's day. 
" Do it again, my dear," I hear Sam cry, 
u See, who first tires, (my charmer !) you or ■I." 
I see thee stuffing, with a hand uncouth, 
An old dried whiting in thy Johnson's mouth ; 



JEUX D ESPRIT. PETER PINDAR. 197 

And lo ! I see withal] his might and main, 

Thy Johnson spit the whiting out again. 

Rare anecdotes ! 'tis anecdotes like these, 

That bring thee glory, and the million please 

On these, shall future times delighted stare, 

Thou charming haberdasher of small ware ! 

Stewart and Robertson from thee shall learn 

The simple charms of history to discern : 

To thee, fair history's palm shall Livy yield, 

And Tacitus, to Bozzy leave the field ! 

Joe Miller's self, whose page such fun provokes, 

Shall quit his shroud, to grin at Bozzy's jokes ! 

How are we all with rapture touch'd, to see 

Where, when, and at what hour, you swallowed tea ; 

How, once, to grace this Asiatic treat, 

Came haddocks, which the Rambler could not eat ! 

Pleased, on thy book thy sovereign's eye-balls roll, 

Who loves a gossip's story from his soul ; 

Blessed with the memory of the Persian king( ! ), 

He every body knows, and every thing ; 

Who's dead, who's married, what poor girl, beguiled, 

Hath lost a paramour and found a child ; 

Which gardener hath most cabbages and peas, 

And which old woman hath most hives of bees ; 

Which farmer boasts the most prolific sows, 

Cocks, hens, geese, turkeys, goats, sheep, bulls, and cows 

Which barber best the ladies* locks can curl ; 

Which house in Windsor sells the finest purl ; 

Which chimney-sweep best beats in gold array, 

His brush and shovel, on the first of May ! 

Whose dancing dogs in rigadoons excel ; 

And whose the puppet show, that bears the bell : 

Which clever smith, the prettiest man-trap (2) makes 

To save from thieves the royal ducks and drakes, 

(i) Cyrus. 

(2) His Majesty hath planted a number of those trusty guardians around 
his park at Windsor, for the benefit of the public* 

o 3 



198 JOHNSONIANA. 

The Guinea hens and peacocks with their eggs, 
And catch his loving subjects by the legs. 
O ! since the prince of gossips reads thy book, 
To what high honours may not Bozzy look ! 
The sunshine of his smile may soon be thine — 
Perchance, in converse thou may'st hear him shine. 
Perchance, to stamp thy merit through the nation, 
He begs of Johnson's Life, thy dedication ; 
Asks questions (i) of thee, O thou lucky elf, 
And kindly answers every one himself. 
Blessed with the classic learning of a college, 
Our king is not a miser in his knowledge : 
Nought in the storehouse of his brains turns musty : 
No razor-wit, for want of use, grows rusty ; 
Whate'er his head suggests, whate'er he knows, 
Free as election beer from tubs it flows ! 
Yet, ah ! superior far ! — it boasts the merit 
Of never fuddling people with the spirit ! 
Say, Bozzy, when, to bless our anxious sight, 
When shall thy volume ( 2 ) burst the gates of light 

! clothed in calf, ambitious brat, be born — 
Our kitchens, parlours, libraries adorn ! 

My fancy's keen anticipating eye 

A thousand charming anecdotes can spy : 

1 read, I read of George ( s ) the learned display 
On Lowth's and Warburton's immortal fray : 
Of George, whose brain, if right the mark I hit, 
Forms one huge cyclopaedia of wit : 

(1) Just after Dr. Johnson had been honoured with an interview with a 
certain great personage, in the Queen's library at Buckingham House, he 
was interrogated by a friend, concerning his reception, and his opinion of 
the royal intellect. — " His Majesty seems to be possessed of much good- 
nature, and much curiosity," replied the Doctor ; " as for his vfc, it is far 
from contemptible. His Majesty, indeed, was multifarious in his questions ; 
but, thank God, he answered them all himself." 

(2) The Life of Dr. Johnson. 

(3) His Majesty's commentary on that quarrel, in which the Bishop and 
the Doctor pelted one the other with dirt so gracefully, will be a treasure 
to the lovers of literature ! Mr. B. hath as good as promised it to the pub- 
lic, and, we hope, means to keep his word. 



JEUX d'eSPRIT. PETER PINDAR. 199 

That holds the wisdom of a thousand ages, 

And frightens all his workmen, and his pages ! 

O Bozzy, still thy tell-tale plan pursue : 

The world is wondrous fond of something new : 

And, let but Scandal's breath embalm the page, 

It lives a welcome guest from age to age. 

Not only say who breathes an arrant knave, 

But who hath sneaked a rascal to his grave : 

Make o'er his turf (in Virtue's cause) a rout, 

And, like a damned good Christian, pull him out. 

Without a fear on families harangue, 

Say who shall lose their ears, and who shall hang ; 

Thy brilliant brain conjecture can supply, 

To charm through every leaf the eager eye. 

The blue-stocking (i) society describe, 

And give thy comment on each joke and gibe : 

Tell what the women are, their wit, their quality, 

And dip them in thy streams of immortality ! 

Let Lord Mac Donald threat thy breech to kick ( 2), 
And o'er thy shrinking shoulders shake his stick ; 
Treat with contempt the menace of this lord, 
*T is History's province, Bozzy, to record. 
Though Wilkes abuse thy brain, that airy mill, 
And swear poor Johnson murdered by thy quill ; 
What's that to thee? Why, let the victim bleed — 
Thy end is answer' d, if the nation read. 
The fiddling knight (3), and tuneful Mrs. Thrale, 
Who frequent hobbed or nobbed with Sam, in ale, 

(1) A. club, mostly composed of learned ladies, to which Mr. B. was ad- 
mitted. 

(2) A letter of severe remonstrance was sent to Mr. B., who in conse- 
quence omitted, in the second edition of his Journal, what is so generally 
pleasing to the public, viz. the scandalous passages relative to this no- 
bleman. 

(3) Sir John Hawkins, who (as well as Mrs. Thrale, now Mudame Piozzi) 
threatens us with the Life of the late lexicographer. 

o 4 



200 JOHNSONIANA. 

Snatch up the pen (as thirst of fame inspires !) 

To write his jokes and stories by their fires ; 

Then why not thou each joke and tale enrol, 

Who, like a watchful cat before a hole, 

Full twenty years (inflamed with letter'd pride) 

Didst mousing sit before Sam's mouth so wide, 

To catch as many scraps as thou wert able — 

A very Lazarus at the rich man's table ? 

What though against thee porters bounce the door (^ 

And bid thee hunt for secrets there no more ; 

With pen and ink so ready at thy coat, 

Exciseman-like, each syllable to note, 

That given to printer's devils (a precious load !) 

On wings of print comes flying all abroad ! 

Watch then the venal valets — smack the maids, 

And try with gold to make them rogues and jades : 

Yet should their honesty thy bribes resent, 

Fly to thy fertile genius and invent : 

Like old Voltaire, who placed his greatest glory, 

In cooking up an entertaining story ; 

Who laugh'd at Truth, whene'er her simple tongue 

Would snatch amusement from a tale or song. 

O ! whilst amid the anecdotic mine, 
Thou labour'st hard to bid thy hero shine, 
Run to Bolt Court ( 2 ), exert thy Curl-like soul, 
And fish for golden leaves from hole to hole : 
Find when he eat, and drank, and cough'd, and sneezed 
Let all his motions in thy book be squeezed : 
On tales, however strange, impose thy claw ; 
Yes, let thy amber lick up every straw ; 



(1) This is literally true — Nobody is at home. Our great people want 
the taste to relish Mr. Boswell's vehicles to immortality. Though in Lon. 
don, poor Bozzy is in a desert. 

(2) In Fleet Street, where the Doctor lived and died 



JEUX D ESPRIT. PETER PINDAR. 20] 

Sam's nods, and winks, and laughs, will form a treat ; 
For all that breathes of Johnson must be great ! 

Bless'd be thy labours, most adventurous Bozzy, 

Bold rival of Sir John, and Dame Piozzi ; 

Heavens ! with what laurels shall thy head be crown'd ! 

A grove, a forest, shall thy ears surround ! 

Yes ! whilst the Rambler shall a comet blaze, 

And gild a world of darkness with his rays, 

Thee too, that world, with wonderment, shall hail, 

A lively, bouncing cracker at his tail ! 

Postscript. 

As Mr. Boswell's Journal has afforded such universal pleasure 
by the relation of minute incidents, and the great moralist's 
opinion of men and things, during his northern tour ; it will 
be adding greatly to the anecdoticai treasury, as well as 
making Mr. B. happy, to communicate part of a dialogue 
that took place between Dr. Johnson and the author of this 
Congratulatory Epistle, a few months before the Doctor paid 
the great debt of nature. The Doctor was very cheerful on 
that day ; had on a black coat and waistcoat, a black plush 
pair of breeches, and black worsted stockings ; a handsome 
grey wig, a shirt, a muslin neckcloth, a black pair of buttons 
in his shirt sleeves, a pair of shoes ornamented with the very 
identical little buckles that accompanied the philosopher to the 
Hebrides ; his nails were very neatly pared, and his beard fresh 
shaved with a razor fabricated by the ingenious Mr. Savigny. 

P. P. Pray, Doctor, what is your opinion of Mr. Boswell's 
literary powers ? 

Johnson. Sir, my opinion is, that whenever Bozzy expires, 
he will create no vacuum in the region of literature — he seems 
strongly affected by the cacoethes scribendi; wishes to be thought 
a vara avis ; and in truth so he is — your knowledge in orni- 
thology, Sir, will easily discover to what species of bird I al 
hide. [Here the Doctor shook his head and laughed " 



202 JORNJSONIANA. 

P. P. What think you, Sir, of his account of Corsica? — of 
his character of Paoli ? 

Johnson* Sir, he hath made a mountain of a wart. But 
Paoli has virtues. The account is a farrago of disgusting 
egotism and pompous inanity. 

P. P. I have heard it whispered, Doctor, that, should you 
die before him, Mr. B. means to write your life. 

Johnson. Sir, he cannot mean me so irreparable an injury. 
— Which of us shall die first, is only known to the great Dis- 
poser of events ; but were I sure that James Boswell would 
write my life, I do not know whether I would not anticipate 
the measure, by taking his. [Here he made three or four strides 
across the room, and returned to his chair with violent emotion.] 

P. P. I am afraid that he means to do you the favour. 

Johnson. He dares not — he would make a scarecrow of me. 
I give him liberty to fire his blunderbuss in his own face, but 
not to murder me. Sir, I heed not his avros ecpa. — Boswell 
write my life ! why the fellow possesses not abilities for writing 
Jie life of an ephemeron. 



No. V. — INSCRIPTION ON A CARICATURE 
OF JOHNSON AND MADAME PIOZZI, BY 
SAYERS. (*) 

Madam (my debt to nature paid), 
I thought the grave with hallow'd shade 

Would now protect my name : 
Yet there in vain I seek repose, 
My friends each little fault disclose, 

And murder Johnson's fame. 

First, Boswell, with officious care, 
Show'd me as men would show a bear, 
And call'd himself my friend ; 

(1) [From the European Magaxme.J 



MEMOIR OF BOSWELL. 203 

Sir John with nonsense strewM my hearse, 
And Courteney pester'd me with verse ; 
You torture without end. 

When Streatham spread its plenteous board, 
I open'd Learning's valued hoard, 

And as I feasted prosed. 
Good things I said, good things I eat, 
I gave you knowledge for your meat, 

And thought th' account was closed. 

If obligations still I owed, 

You sold each item to the crowd, 

I suffer'd by the tale : 
For God's sake, Madam, let me rest, 
Nor longer vex your quondam guest — 

I'll pay you for your ale. 



Part XXXIV. 



BOSWELL. 

No. I. — Brief Memoir of Boswell, by Edmond 
M alone, Esq. (*) 

James Boswell, Esq. eldest son of Alexander Boswell, 
Lord Auchinleck, one of the judges in the supreme 
courts of session and justiciary in Scotland, was born 
at Edinburgh, October 29- 1740, and received his 

(1) [From Nichol's Literary Anecdotes of the Eighteenth 
Century, vol. ii. p. 400.] 



204 JOHNSONIANA. 

first rudiments of education in that city. He after- 
wards studied Civil Law in the universities of Edinburgh 
and Glasgow. During his residence in these cities, he 
acquired, by the society of the English gentlemen who 
were students in the English colleges, that remarkable 
predilection for their manners, which neither the force 
of education, nor the dulcedo of his natale solum, could 
ever eradicate. But his most intimate acquaintance at 
this period was the Rev. Mr. Temple, a worthy, learned, 
and pious divine, whose well- written character of Gray 
was inserted in Johnson's Life of that poet. Mr. Bos- 
well imbibed early the ambition of distinguishing him- 
self by his literary talents, and had the good fortune to 
obtain the patronage of the late Lord Somerville. This 
nobleman treated him with the most flattering kindness ; 
and Mr. Boswell ever remembered with gratitude the 
friendship he so long enjoyed with this worthy peer. 
Having always entertained an exalted idea of the felicity 
of London, in the year 176*0 he visited that capital; in 
the manners and amusements of which he found so 
much that was congenial to his own taste and feelings, 
that it became ever after his favourite residence, whither 
he always returned from his estate in Scotland, and from 
his various rambles in various parts of Europe, with in- 
creasing eagerness and delight ; and we find him, nearly 
twenty years afterwards, condemning Scotland as too 
narrow a sphere, and wishing to make his chief residence 
in London, which he calls the great scene of ambition, 
instruction, and, comparatively, making his heaven upon 
earth. He was, doubtless, confirmed in this attachment 
to the metropolis by the strong predilection entertained 
towards it by his friend Dr. Johnson, whose sentiments 
on this subject Mr. Boswell details in various parts of 
his Life of that great man ; and which are corroborated 
by every one, in pursuit of literary and intellectual 
attainments, who has enjoyed but a taste of the rich 
feast which that city spreads before him. 



BOS WELL. 203 

The politeness, affability, and insinuating urbanity of 
manners, which distinguished Mr. Boswell, introduced 
him into the company of many eminent and learned 
men, whose acquaintance and friendship he cultivated 
with the greatest assiduity. In truth, the esteem and 
approbation of learned men seems to have been one chief 
object of his literary ambition ; and we find him so 
successful in pursuing his end, that he enumerated some 
of the greatest men in Scotland among his friends even 
before he left it for the first time. Notwithstanding 
Mr. Boswell by his education was intended for the bar, 
yet he was himself earnestly bent at this period upon 
obtaining a commission in the Guards, and solicited 
Lord Auchinleck's acquiescence ; but returned, how- 
ever, by his desire, into Scotland, where he received a 
regular course of instruction in the Law, and passed his 
trials as a civilian at Edinburgh. Still, however, am- 
bitious of displaying himself as one of " the manly 
heart who guard the fair," he revisited London a 
second time in 1 762 ; and, various occurrences delay- 
ing the purchase of a commission, he was at length 
persuaded by Lord Auchinleck to relinquish his pursuit, 
and become an advocate at the Scotch bar. In com- 
pliance, therefore, with his father's wishes, he consented 
to go to Utrecht the ensuing winter, to hear the lectures 
of an excellent civilian in that university ; after which 
he had permission to make his grand tour of Europe. 

In 1762 Mr. Boswell published the little poem, entitled 
(< The Club at Newmarket, a Tale," and the next year 
may be considered the most important epocha in his 
life, as he had the singular felicity to be introduced to 
Dr. Johnson. This event, so auspicious for Mr. Bos- 
well, and so fortunate for the literary world, happened 
on May 16. 176"3. Having afterwards continued one 
winter at Utrecht, during which time he visited several 
parts of the Netherlands, he commenced his projected 
travels. Passing from Utrecht into Germany, he pur- 



206 JOHNSONIAN 7 A. 

sued his route through Switzerland to Geneva ; whence 
he crossed the Alps into Italy : having visited on his 
journey Voltaire at Ferney, and Rousseau in the wilds 
of Neufchatel. Mr. Boswell continued some time in 
Italy, where he met and associated with Lord Mount- 
stuart, to whom he afterwards dedicated his Theses 
Juridicce. 

Having visited the most remarkable cities in Italy, 
Mr. Boswell sailed to Corsica, travelled over every part 
of that island, and obtained the friendship of the illus- 
trious Pasquale de Paoli, in whose palace he resided 
during his stay at Corsica. He afterwards went to 
Paris, whence he returned to Scotland in 1766, and 
soon after became an advocate at the Scotch bar. The 
celebrated Douglas cause was at that time a subject of 
general discussion. Mr. Boswell published the " Essence 
of the Douglas Cause ; " a pamphlet which contributed 
to procure Mr. Douglas the popularity which he at that 
time possessed. 

In 1768, Mr. Boswell obliged the world by his 
<c Account of Corsica, with Memoirs of General Paoli." 
Of this printed performance Dr. Johnson thus expresses 
himself: " Your Journal is curious and delightful. I 
know not whether I could name any narrative by which 
curiosity is better excited or better gratified." This 
book was received with extraordinary approbation, and 
has been translated into the German, Dutch, Italian, 
and French languages. In the following winter, the 
theatre- royal at Edinburgh, hitherto restrained by party- 
spirit, was opened. On this occasion Mr. Boswell was 
solicited by David Ross, Esq. to write a prologue. 
The effect of this prologue upon the audience was 
highly flattering to the author, and beneficial to the 
manager, as it secured to the latter, by the annihilation 
of the opposition which had been till that time too suc- 
cessfully exerted against him, the uninterrupted pos- 
session of his patent, which he enjoyed till his death, 



BOSWELL. 207 

which happened in September, 1790* Mr. Bos well at- 
tended his funeral as chief mourner, and paid the last 
honours to a man with whom he had spent many a 
pleasant hour. — In 1769, was celebrated at Stratford - 
on-Avon the Jubilee in honour of Shakspeare. Mr. 
Boswell, an enthusiastic admirer of the writings of our 
immortal bard, and ever ready to partake of " the 
feast of reason and the flow of soul/' repaired thither, 
and appeared at the masquerade as an armed Corsican 
chief; a character he was eminently qualified to sup- 
port. 

This year Mr. Boswell was married to Miss Margaret 
Montgomery, a lady who, to the advantages of a polite 
education, united admirable good sense and a brilliant 
understanding. She was daughter of David Montgomery, 
Esq. related to the illustrious family of Eglintoune, and 
representative of the ancient peerage of Lyle. The 
death of this amiable woman is recorded in the Gentle- 
man's Magazine for June, 1790; and Mr. Boswell 
honoured her memory with an affectionate tribute. 
She left him two sons and three daughters ; who, to 
use Mr. Bos well's own words, ec if they inherit her 
good qualities, will have no reason to complain of their 
lot." Dos magna parentum virtus. — In 1782, Lord 
Auchinleck died. — In 1783, Mr. Boswell published his 
celebrated (i Letter to the People of Scotland : " which 
is thus praised by Johnson in a letter to the author : 
" I am very much of your opinion **** - your paper 
contains very considerable knowledge of history and 
the constitution, very properly produced and applied." 
Mr. Pitt, to whom Mr. Boswell communicated the pam- 
phlet, honoured it with his approbation. This first 
Letter was followed by a second, in which Mr. Boswell 
displayed his usual energy and political abilities. In 
1785, Mr. Boswell published " A Journal of a Tour 
to the Hebrides " with Dr. Johnson ; which met a 
similar success to his entertaining account of Corsica. 



208 JOHN'SONIANA. 

This year Mr. Boswell removed to London, and was 
soon after called to the English bar. 

But Mr. BoswelTs professional business was inter- 
rupted by preparing his most celebrated work. " The 
Life of Samuel Johnson, LL.D." This was published 
in 1791) and was received by the world with most 
extraordinary avidity. It is a faithful history of John- 
son's life, and exhibits a most interesting picture of the 
character of that illustrious moralist, delineated with a 
masterly hand. The preparation of a second edition 
of this work was almost the last literary performance 
of Mr. Boswell ; though he was at the same time pre- 
paring a general answer to a letter from Dr. Samuel 
Parr, in Gent. Mag. vol. lxv. p. 179; in which he 
proposed also briefly to notice the attacks of his more 
puny antagonists. He had also a design, which was 
in some forwardness, of publishing a quarto volume, to 
be embellished with fine plates, on the subject of the 
controversy occasioned by the Beggar's Opera; and it 
is to be regretted, that the public were not gratified with 
a perusal of what so good a judge of human nature 
would say on so curious a subject. With this particular 
view he had paid frequent visits to the then truly 
humane " Governor of Newgate," as he ordinarily 
styled Mr. Kirby. His death, unexpected by his 
friends, was a subject of universal regret; and his 
remains were carried to Auchinleck ; and the following 
inscription is engraved on his coffin -plate ; — 

James Boswell, Esq., 

died 19th May, 1795, 

aged 55 years. 



BOS WELL. 209 



No. II. — Extracts from Boswell's Letters to 
Mr. M alone. 

\Mr. BoswelVs letters to Mr. Malone, written while the 
first edition of his Life of Johnson was passing through 
the press, afford so curious a viev: of his situation and 
state of mind at that period, that the Editor has gladly 
availed himself of Mr. Upcotfs permission to make 
some extracts from the MSS. in that gentleman s col- 
lection.'] 

ce Dec. 4. 1790. Let me begin with myself. On 
the day after your departure, that most friendly fellow 
Courtenay (begging the pardon of an M.P. for so free an 
epithet) called on me, and took my word and honour that, 
till the 1st of March, my allowance of wine per diem 
should not exceed four good glasses at dinner, and a pint 
after it : and this I have kept, though I have dined with 
Jack Wilkes; at the London Tavern, after the launch 
of an Indiaman ; with dear Edwards ; Dilly ; at home 
with Courtenay ; Dr. Barrow ; at the mess of the Cold- 
stream ; at the Club ; at Warren Hastings's ; at Haw- 
kins the Cornish member's ; and at home with a colonel 
of the guards, &c. This regulation I assure you is of 
essential advantage in many respects. The Magnum 
Opus advances. I have revised p. 21 6. The additions 
which I have received are a Spanish quotation from 
Mr. Cambridge ( l ) ; an account of Johnson at Warley 
Camp from Mr. Langton ( 2 ) ; and Johnson's letters to 
Mr. Hastings — three in all — one of them long md 
admirable ; but what sets the diamonds in pure gold of 
Ophir is a letter from Mr. Hastings to me, illustrating 

(1) [See ante, Vol. VIII. p. 184.] 

(2) [See ante, Vol. VII. p. 224.] 
VOL. X. P 



210 JOHNSONIANA. 

them and their writer. (*) I had this day the honour of 
a long visit from the late governor-general of India. 
There is to be no more impeachment. But you will 
see his character nobly vindicated. Depend upon this. 

" And now for my friend. The appearance of 
Malone's Shakespeare on the 29th November was not 
attended with any external noise ; but I suppose no 
publication seized more speedily and surely on the at- 
tention of those for whose critical taste it was chiefly 
intended. At the Club on Tuesday, where I met Sir 
Joshua, Dr. Warren, Lord Ossory, Lord Palmerston, 
Windham, and Burke in the chair, — Burke was so full 
of his an ti- French revolution rage, and poured it out so 
copiously, that we had almost nothing else. He, how- 
ever, found time to praise the clearness and accuracy of 
your dramatic history ; and Windham found fault with 
you for not taking the profits of so laborious a work. 
Sir Joshua is pleased, though he would gladly have seen 
more disquisition — you understand me ! Mr. Daines 
Barrington is exceedingly gratified. He regrets that 
there should be a dryness between you and Steevens, as 
you have treated him with great respect. I understand 
that, in a short time, there will not be one of your books 
to be had for love or money." 

<c Dec. 7» I dined last Saturday at Sir Joshua's with 
Mr. Burke, his lady, son, and niece, Lord Palmerston, 
Windham, Dr. Lawrence, Dr. Blagden, Dr. Burney, Sir 
Abraham Hume, Sir William Scott. I sat next to 
young Burke at dinner, who said to me, that you had 
paid his father a very fine compliment. I mentioned 
Johnson, to sound if there was any objection. He 
made none. In the evening Burke told me he had read 
your Henry VI., with all its accompaniment, and it 
was exceedingly well done/ He left us for some 

(1) [See ante, Vol. VIII. p. 38.] 



BOSWELL. 211 

time ; I suppose on some of his cursed politics ; but 
he returned — I at him again, and heard from his lips 
what, believe me, I delighted to hear, and took care to 
write down soon after. c I have read his History of the 
Stage, which is a very capital piece of criticism andanti- 
agrarianism. I shall now read all Shakspeare through, 
in a very different manner from what I have yet done, 
when I have got such a commentator/ Will not this 
do for you, my friend ? Burke was admirable company 
all that day. He never once, I think, mentioned the 
French revolution, and was easy with me, as in days 
of old." 

" Dec. 16. I was sadly mortified at the Club on 
Tuesday, where I was in the chair, and on opening the 
box found three balls against General Burgoyne. Pre- 
sent, besides moi, Lord Ossory, Sir Joshua Reynolds, 
Sir Joseph Banks, Dr. Fordyce, Dr. Burney, young 
Burke, Courtenay, Steevens. One of the balls, I do 
believe, was put into the no side by Fordyce by mis- 
take. You may guess who put in the other two. The 
Bishop of Carlisle and Dr. Blagden are put up. I 
doubt if the latter will be admitted, till Burgoyne gets 
in first. My work has met with a delay for a little 
while — not a whole day, however — by an unaccount- 
able neglect in having paper enough in readiness. I 
have now before me p. 256. My utmost wish is to 
come forth on Shrove Tuesday (8th March). ( Wits 
are game cocks/ &c. Langton is in town, and dines 
with me to-morrow quietly^ and revises his Collec- 
tanea." (*) 

" Jan. IS. 1791* I have been so disturbed by sad 
money-matters, that my mind has been quite fretful : 
500/. which I borrowed and lent to a first cousin^ an 

(1) [See ante, Vol. VII. p. 350.] 
p 2 



212 JOHNSONIANA. 

unlucky captain of an Indiaman, were due on the 15th 
to a merchant in the city. I could not possibly raise 
that sum, and was apprehensive of being hardly used. 
He. however, indulged me with an allowance to make 
partial payments; 150/. in two months, 150/. in eight 
months, and the remainder, with the interests, in 
eighteen months. How I am to manage I am at a loss, 
and I know you cannot help me. So this, upon my 
honour, is no hint. I am really tempted to accept of 
the 1000/. for my Life of Johnson. Yet it would go 
to my heart to sell it at a price which I think much too 
low. Let me struggle and hope. I cannot be out on 
Shrove Tuesday, as I flattered myself. P. 376. of 
Vol. IL is ordered for press, and I expect another proof 
to-night. But I have yet near 200 pages of copy be- 
sides letters, and the death, which is not yet written. 
My second volume will, I see, be forty or fifty pages 
more than my first. Your absence is a woful want in 
all respects. You will, I dare say, perceive a difference 
in the part which is revised only by myself, and in which 
many insertions will appear. My spirits are at present 
bad : but I will mention all I can recollect." 

'< Jan. 29. 1791. You will find this a most de- 
sponding and disagreeable letter, for which I ask your 
pardon. But your vigour of mind and warmth of 
heart make your friendship of such consequence, that it 
is drawn upon like a bank. I have, for some weeks, had 
the most woful return of melancholy, insomuch that I 
have not only had no relish of any thing, but a con- 
tinual uneasiness, and all the prospect before me for the 
rest of life has seemed gloomy and hopeless. The state 
of my affairs is exceedingly embarrassed. I mentioned 
to you that the 500/. which I borrowed several years 
ago, and lent to a first cousin, an unfortunate India 
captain, must now be paid; 150/. on the 18th of 
March, 150/. on the 18th of October, and 257/. 15*. 6d. 



BOSWELL. 213 

on the 18 th of July, 1792. This debt presses upon 
my mind, and it is uncertain if I shall ever get a 
shilling of it again. The clear money on which I can 
reckon out of my estate is scarcely 9001. a year. What 
can I do ? My grave brother urges me to quit London, 
and live at my seat in the country ; where he thinks that 
I might be able to save so as gradually to relieve myself. 
But, alas ! I should be absolutely miserable. In the 
mean time, such are my projects and sanguine expect- 
ations, that you know I purchased an estate which was 
given long ago to a younger son of our family, and came 
to be sold last autumn, and paid for it 2500/. — 1500/. 
of which I borrow upon itself by a mortgage. But the 
remaining 1000/. I cannot conceive a possibility of 
raising, but by the mode of annuity ; which is, I believe, 
a very heavy disadvantage. I own it was imprudent in 
me to make a clear purchase at a time when I was sadly 
straitened ; but if I had missed the opportunity, it 
never again would have occurred, and I should have 
been vexed to see an ancient appanage, a piece of, as 
it were, the flesh and blood of the family, in the hands 
of a stranger. And now that 1 have made the purchase, 
I should feel myself quite despicable should I give it up. 
(( In this situation, then, my dear Sir, would it not 
be wise in me to accept of 1000 guineas for my Life 
of Johnson, supposing the person who made the offer 
should now stand to it, which I fear may not be the 
case; for two volumes may be considered as a disad- 
vantageous circumstance? Could I indeed raise 1000/. 
upon the credit of the work, I should incline to game, 
as Sir Joshua says ; because it may produce double the 
money, though Steevens kindly tells me that I have 
over-printed, and that the curiosity about Johnson is 
now only in our own circle. Pray decide for me ; and 
if, as I suppose, you are for my taking the offer, inform 
me with whom I am to treat. In my present state of 
spirits, I am all timidity. Your absence has been a 
p 3 



214? JOHNSONIANS. 

with whom he was the most intimately acquainted) : 
and if any obstacle prevented it from driving off, there 
he would stand by the door of it, and gather a mob 
around him ; indeed, they would begin to gather the 
moment he appeared handing the lady down the steps 
into Fleet Street. But to describe his appearance — 
his important air — that indeed cannot be described ; 
and his morning habiliments would excite the utmost 
astonishment in my reader, that a man in his senses 
could think of stepping outside his door in them, or 
even to be seen at home. Sometimes he exhibited 
himself at the distance of eight or ten doors from Bolt 
Court, to get at the carriage, to the no small diversion 
of the populace. ( J ) 

341. J oh nsons Dress. — Miss Cotter eh 
His best dress was, in his early times, so very mean, 
that one afternoon as he was following some ladies 
up stairs, on a visit to a lady of fashion (MissCotterel ( 2 ), 
the servant, not knowing him, suddenly seized him by 
the shoulder, and exclaimed, " Where are you going ?" 
striving at the same time to drag him back ; but a 
gentleman ( ;H ) who was a few steps behind prevented 
her from doing or saying more, and Mr. Johnson 
growled all the way up stairs, as well he might. He 
seemed much chagrined and discomposed. Unluckily, 
whilst in this humour, a lady of high rank ( 4 ) happen- 

(1) [See ante, Vol. VI. p. 25 — C.l 

(2) His acquaintance with this lady and her sister, who mar- 
ried Dean Lewis, continued to the last days of his life. He 
says in one of his letters to Mrs. Thrale, " I know not whether 
I told you that my old friend Mrs. Cotterel, now no longer 

Miss, has called to see me. Mrs. Lewis is not well April 26. 

1784." It is gratifying to observe how many of Johnson's ear- 
liest friends continued so to the last. — C. 

(3) Sir Joshua (then Mr.) Reynolds. — C. 

(4) Lady Fitzroy. — Miss Reynolds. — See ante, Vol. 1. 
p. 293., where this story is told of the Duchess of Argyll and 
another lady of high rank : that other lady was no doubt the 
person erroneously designated bv Miss Reynolds as Lady Fitz- 



MISS REYNOLDS. 215 

ing to call upon Miss Cotterel, he was most violently 
offended with her for not introducing him to her lady- 
ship., and still more so for her seeming to show more 
attention to her than to him. After sitting some time 
silent, meditating how to down Miss Cotterel, he ad- 
dressed himself to Mr. Reynolds, who sat next him, 
and, after a few introductory words, with a loud voice 
said, " I wonder which of us two could get most money 
at his trade in one week, were we to work hard at it 
from morning till night/' I don't remember the 
answer; but I know that the lady, rising soon after, 
went away without knowing what trade they were of. 
She might probably suspect Mr. Johnson to be a poor 
author by his dress ; and because the trade of neither a 
blacksmith, a porter, or a chairman, which she probably 
would have taken him for in the street, was not quite 
so suitable to the place she saw him in. This incident 
he used to mention with great glee — how he had 
downed Miss Cotterel, though at the same time he pro- 
fessed a great friendship and esteem for that lady. 

342. Dr. Barnard. — " Forty-five." 
It is certain, for such kind of mortifications, he never 
expressed any concern ; but on other occasions he has 
shown an amiable sorrow ( ] ) for the offence he has 
given, particularly if it seemed to involve the slightest 
disrespect to the church or to its ministers. 

I shall never forget with what regret he spoke of 
the rude reply he made to Dr. Barnard, on his saying 
that men never improved after the age of forty- five. 

roy. She probably was Elizabeth Cosby, wife of Lord Augus- 
tus Fitzroy, and grandmother of the present Duke of Grafton. 

(1) " He repented just as certainly, however, if he had been 
led to praise any person or thing by accident more than he 
thought it deserved ; and was on such occasions comically ear- 
nest to destroy the praise or pleasure he had unintentionally 
given," — Piozzi. — C. 

p 4 



216 JOHNSONIANA. 

and of an assignment to one half of my rents, 700/. 
which, upon my honour, are always due, and would be 
forthcoming in case of my decease ? I will not sell, till 
I have your answer as to this. 

" On Tuesday we had a Club of eleven — Lords 
Lucan (in the chair),, Ossory, Macartney, Eliot, Bishop 
of Clonfert, young Burke, myself, Courtenay, Wind- 
ham, Sir Joshua, and Charles Fox, who takes to us 
exceedingly, and asked to have dinner a little later ; so 
it was to be at half-past five. Burke had made great 
interest for his drum-major, and, would you believe it? 
had not Courtenay and I been there, he would have 
been chosen. 1 am strangely ill, and doubt if even you 
could dispel the demoniac influence. I have now before 
me p. 488. in print : the 9%3 pages of the copy only is 
exhausted, and there remains 80, besides the death ; as 
to which I shall be concise, though solemn. Pray how 
shall I wind up ? Shall I give the character from my 
Tour, somewhat enlarged ? " 

" London, Feb. 25. 1791* I nave not seen Sir Joshua 
I think for a fortnight. I have been worse than you 
can possibly imagine, or I hope ever shall be able to 
imagine ; which no man can do without experiencing 
the malady. It has been for some time painful to me 
to be in company. I, however, am a little better, and 
to meet Sir Joshua to-day at dinner at Mr. Dance's, 
and shall tell him that he is to have good Irish claret. 

cc I am in a distressing perplexity how to decide as 
to the property of my book. You must know, that I 
am certainly informed that a certain person who delights 
in mischief has been depreciating it, so that I fear the 
sale of it may be very dubious. Two quartos and two 
guineas sound in an alarming manner. I believe, in 
my present frame, I should accept even of 500/. ; for I 
suspect that were I now to talk to Robinson, I should 
find him not disposed to give 1 000/. Did he absolutely 



BOSWELL. 217 

offer it, or did he only express himself so as that you 
concluded he would give it ? The pressing circumstance 
is, that I must lay down 1000/. by the 1st of May, on 
account of the purchase of land, which my old family 
enthusiasm urged me to make. You, I doubt not, 
have full confidence in my honesty. May I then ask 
you if you could venture to join with me in a bond for 
that sum, as then I would take my chance, and, as Sir 
Joshua says, game with my book ? Upon my honour, 
your telling me that you cannot comply with what I 
propose will not in the least surprise me, or make any 
manner of difference as to my opinion of your friend- 
ship. I mean to ask Sir Joshua if he will join ; for 
indeed I should be vexed to sell my Magnum Opus for 
a great deal less than its intrinsic value. I meant to 
publish on Shrove Tuesday ; but if I can get out 
within the month of March I shall be satisfied. I have 
now, I think, four or five sheets to print, which will 
make my second volume about 575 pages. But I shall 
have more cancels. That nervous mortal W. G. H. (*) is 
not satisfied with my report of some particulars which 
I wrote down from his own mouth, and is so much agi- 
tated, that Courtenay has persuaded me to allow a new 
edition of them by H. himself to be made at H/s ex- 
pense. Besides, it has occurred to me, that when I 
mention " a literary fraud" by Rolt the historian, in 
going to Dublin, and publishing Akenside's Pleasures 
of the Imagination, with his own name, 1 may not be 
able to authenticate it, as Johnson is dead, and he may 
have relations who may take it up as an offence, perhaps 
a libel. Courtenay suggests, that you may perhaps get 
intelligence whether it was true. The Bishop of Dro- 
more can probably tell, as he knows a great deal about 
Rolt. In case of doubt, should I not cancel the leaf, 
and either omit the curious anecdote or give it as a story 
which Johnson laughingly told as having circulated ? " 

(1) [Single-speech Hamilton.] 



218 JOHNSONIANA. 

" March 8. I have before me your volunteer letter 
of February 24th, and one of 5th current, which, if 
you have dated it right, has come with wonderful ex- 
pedition. You may be perfectly sure that I have not 
the smallest fault to find with your disinclination to 
come again under any pecuniary engagements for others, 
after having suffered so much. Dilly proposes that he 
and Baldwin should each advance 200/. on the credit 
of my book ; and if they do so, I shall manage well 
enough, for I now find that I can have 600/. in Scot- 
land on the credit of my rents ; and thus I shall get the 
1000/. paid in May. 

" You would observe some stupid lines on Mr. Burke 
in the ' Oracle ' by Mr. Boswell ! I instantly wrote to 
Mr. Burke, expressing my indignation at such imper- 
tinence, and had next morning a most obliging answer. 
Sir William Scott told me I could have no legal redress. 
So I went civilly to Bell, and he promised to mention 
handsomely that James Boswell, Esq. was not the author 
of the lines. The note, however, on the subject was a 
second impertinence. But I can do nothing. I wish 
Fox, in his bill upon libels, would make a heavy penalty 
the consequence of forging any person's name to any 
composition, which, in reality, such a trick amounts to. 

" In the night between the last of February and first 
of this month, I had a sudden relief from the inex- 
plicable disorder, which occasionally clouds my mind 
and makes me miserable, and it is amazing how well I 
have been since. Your friendly admonition as to excess 
in wine has been often too applicable; but upon this 
late occasion I erred on the other side. However, as I 
am now free from my restriction to Courtenay, I shall 
be much upon my guard ; for, to tell the truth, I did 
go too deep the day before yesterday ; having dined 
with Michael Angelo Taylor, and then supped at the 
London Tavern with the stewards of the Humane Society, 
and continued till I know not what hour in the morn- 



BOSWELL. 219 

ing. John Nichols was joyous to a pitch of baccha- 
nalian vivacity. I am to dine with him next Monday ; 
an excellent city party, Alderman Curtis, Deputy Birch, 
&c. &c. I rated him gently on his saying so little of 
your Shakspeare. (*) He is ready to receive more ample 
notice. You may depend on your having whatever 
reviews that mention you sent directly. Have I told 
you that Murphy has written " An Essay on the Life 
and Writings of Dr. Johnson," to be prefixed to the 
new edition of his works ? He wrote it in a month, 
and has received 200/. for it. I am quite resolved now 
to keep the property of my Magnum Opus; and I 
flatter myself I shall not repent it. 

(( My title, as we settled it, is c The Life of Samuel 
Johnson, LL. D., comprehending an account of his 
studies and various works, in chronological order, his 
conversations with many eminent persons, a series of 
his letters to celebrated men, and several original pieces 
of his composition : the whole exhibiting a view of 
literature and literary men in Great Britain, for near 
half a century, during which he flourished." It will be 
very kind if you will suggest what yet occurs. I hoped 
to have published to-day ; but it will be about a month 
yet before I launch." 

l( March 12. Being the depositary of your chance 
in the lottery, I am under the disagreeable necessity 
of communicating the bad news that it has been drawn 
a blank, I am very sorry, both on your account and 
that of your sisters, and ray own ; for had your share 
of good fortune been 3 166/. 13*. 4d. I should have 
hoped for a loan to accommodate me. As it is, I shall, 
as I wrote to you, be enabled to weather my difficulties 
for some time : but I am still in great anxiety about 
the sale of my book, I find so many people shake their 

(1) [Viz. in the Gentleman's Magazine.] 



220 JOHNSONIANA. 

heads at the two quartos and two guineas. Courtenay 
is clear that I should sound Robinson, and accept of a 
thousand guineas, if he will give that sum. Meantime, 
the title-page must he made as good as may be. It 
appears to me that mentioning his studies, works, con- 
versations, and letters is not sufficient ; and I would sug 
gest comprehending an account, in chronological order, 
of his studies, works, friendships, acquaintance, and 
other particulars ; his conversations with eminent men ; 
a series of his letters to various persons ; also several 
original pieces of his composition never before published. 
The whole, &c. You will, probably, be able to assist 
me in expressing my idea, and arranging the parts. 
In the advertisement I intend to mention the letter to 
Lord Chesterfield, and perhaps the interview with the 
King, and the names of the correspondents in alpha- 
betical order. How should chronological order stand in 
the order of the members of my title ? I had at first 
" celebrated correspondents/' which I don't like. How 
would it do to say " his conversations and epistolary 
correspondence with eminent (or celebrated) persons ? " 
Shall it be Ci different works," and "various particulars? " 
In short, it is difficult to decide. 

" Courtenay was with me this morning. What a 
mystery is his going on at all ! Yet he looks well, 
talks well, dresses well, keeps his mare — in short is in 
all respects like a parliament man. Do you know that 
my bad spirits are returned upon me to a certain degree ; 
and such is the sickly fondness for change of place, and 
imagination of relief, that I sometimes think you are 
happier by being in Dublin, than one is in this great 
metropolis, where hardly any man cares for another. 
I am persuaded I should relish your Irish dinners very 
much. I have at last got chambers in the Temple, in 
the very staircase where Johnson lived ; and when my 
Magnum Opus is fairly launched, there shall I make a 
trial." 



BOSWELL. 221 



No. III. — Boswell in Corsica. 

[The "Journal of a Tour in Corsica in 1765/* the 
work by which Boswell was first made known to the 
world of letters, is now but seldom met with. The 
high opinion which Johnson expressed of it has already 
beenrecorded (ante, Vol.III. p. 70.): "your Journal,'' 
says he, " is in a very high degree curious and de- 
lightful; I know not whether I could name any nar- 
rative by which curiosity is better excited or better 
gratified/' and when we recollect, that at the time he 
wrote it Boswell was only in the twenty-fourth year 
of his age, it certainly appears very creditable to his 
literary attainments. We have, therefore, selected 
some of the most interesting and characteristic pas- 
sages of this neglected performance — concluding with 
those which bear a direct reference to the author's 
early intercourse with Johnson. - ] 

Boswell's object in visiting Corsica. 

Having resolved to pass some years abroad,, for my 
instruction and entertainment, I conceived a design of 
visiting the island of Corsica. I wished for something 
more than just the common course of what is called the 
tour of Europe ; and Corsica occurred to me as a place 
which nobody else had seen, and where I should find what 
was to be seen no where else, a people actually fighting 
for liberty, and forming themselves from a poor, in- 
considerable, oppressed nation, into a flourishing and 
independent state. 

Barbary Corsairs. 

The only danger I saw in going to Corsica was, 
that I might be taken by some of the Barbary corsairs, 
and have a trial of slavery among the Turks at Algiers. 



222 JOHNSONIANA. 

I spoke of it to commodore Harrison, who commanded 
the British squadron in the Mediterranean, and was 
then lying with his ship the Centurion, in the hay of 
Leghorn. He assured me, that if the Turks did take 
me, they should not keep me long ; hut in order to 
prevent it, he was so good as to grant me a very ample 
and particular passport ; and as it could be of no use 
if I did not meet the corsairs, he said very pleasantly 
when he gave it me, ie I hope, Sir, it will be of no use 
to you.'' 

Arrival in Corsica. 

We landed safely in the harbour of Centuri. I was 
directed to the house of Signor Antonio Antonetti at 
Morsiglia, about a mile up the country. The prospect 
of the mountains covered with vines and olives was 
extremely agreeable ; and the odour of the myrtle and 
other aromatic shrubs and flowers that grew all around 
me was very refreshing. As I walked along, I often 
saw Corsican peasants come suddenly out from the 
covert. They were all armed; even the man who 
carried my baggage was armed, and had I been timorous 
might have alarmed me. But he and I were very good 
company to each other. As it grew dusky, I repeated 
to myself these lines from a fine passage in Ariosto. 

" E pur per selve oscure e calli obliqui 
Tnsieme van, senza sospetto aversi." 

" Together through dark woods and winding ways 
They walk, nor on their hearts suspicion preys." 

Signor Antonetti received me with unaffected cor- 
diality, making an apology for my frugal entertainment, 
but assuring me of a hearty welcome. His true kindly 
hospitality was also shown in taking care of my servant, 
an honest Swiss, who loved to eat and drink well. I 
had formed a strange notion that I should see every 



BOSWELL. 223 

thing in Corsica totally different from what I had seen 
in any other country. I was therefore much surprised 
to find Signor Antonetti's house quite an Italian one, 
with very good furniture, prints, and copies of some of 
the famous pictures. In particular, I was struck to 
find here a small copy from Raphael,, of St. Michael 
and the Dragon. There was no necessity for its being 
well done. To see the thing at all was what surprised 
me. 

A Corsican Sermon. 
The next day, being Sunday, I accompanied Signor 
Antonetti and his family to hear mass in the parish 
church, a very pretty little building, about half a quarter 
of a mile off. The priest was to preach to us, at which I 
was much pleased, being very curious to hear a Corsican 
sermon. He did very well. His text was in the 
Psalms. " Descendunt ad infernum viventes. They 
go down alive into the pit." After endeavouring to 
move our passions with a description of the horrors of 
hell, he told us, " Saint Catherine of Siena wished to 
be laid on the mouth of this dreadful pit, that she 
might stop it up, so as no more unhappy souls should 
fall into it. I confess, my brethern, I have not the 
zeal of holy Saint Catherine. But I do what I can ; I 
warn you how to avoid it." He then gave us some 
good practical advices and concluded. 

A slight Mistake. 
At Pino I was cordially entertained at Signor To- 
masi's. Throughout all Corsica, except in garrison 
towns, there is hardly an inn. Before I was ac- 
customed to the Corsican hospitality, I sometimes for- 
got myself, and imagining I was in a public house, 
called for what I wanted, with the tone which one uses 
in calling to the waiters at a tavern. I did so at Pino, 
asking for a variety of things at once ; when Signora 



224 JOHNSON1ANA. 

Tomasi perceiving my mistake, looked in my face and 
smiled, saying with much calmness and good-nature, 
" Una cosa dopo un altra, Signore. One thing after 
another, Sir." 

Reflections in a Convent, 

For some time, I had very curious travelling, mostly 
on foot, and attended by a couple of stout women, who 
carried my baggage upon their heads. Every time that 
I prepared to set out from a village, I could not help 
laughing, to see the good people eager to have my 
equipage in order, and roaring out, u Le donne, le 
donne ! The women, the women!" I had full leisure 
and the best opportunities to observe every thing. I 
was lodged sometimes in private houses, sometimes in 
convents, being always well recommended from place 
to place. The first convent in which I lay was at 
Canari. It appeared a little odd at first. But I 
soon learnt to repair to my dormitory as naturally 
as if I had been a friar for seven years. These con- 
vents were small decent buildings, suited to the sober 
ideas of their pious inhabitants. The religious, who 
devoutly endeavour to " walk with God," are often 
treated with raillery by those whom pleasure or busi- 
ness prevents from thinking of future and more exalted 
objects. A little experience of the serenity and peace 
of mind to be found in convents would be of use to 
temper the fire of men of the world. 

Monastic Inscription. 

At Corte I was very politely received, and was con- 
ducted to the Franciscan convent, where I got the 
apartment of Paoli, who was then some days* journey 
beyond the mountains, holding a court of syndicato at 
a village called Sollacaro. These fathers have no 



BOSWELL. 225 

library worth mentioning; but their convent is large 
and well built. I looked about with great attention, 
to see if I could find any inscriptions ; but the only 
one I found was upon a certain useful edifice. 

•' Sine necessitate hue non intrate, 
Quia necessaria sumus." 

A studied, rhyming, Latin conceit marked upon such 
a place was truly ludicrous. 

Corsican Criminals, 
I went up to the castle of Corte. The commandant 
very civilly showed me every part of it. As I wished 
to see all things in Corsica, I desired to see even 
the unhappy criminals. There were then three in 
the castle, a man for the murder of his wife ; a mar- 
ried lady who had hired one of her servants to strangle 
a woman of whom she was jealous ; and the servant 
who had actually perpetrated this barbarous action. 
They were brought out from their cells, that I might 
talk with them. The murderer of his wife had a stupid, 
hardened appearance, and told me he did it at the insti- 
gation of the devil. The servant was a poor despicable 
wretch. He had at first accused his mistress, but was 
afterwards prevailed with to deny his accusation, upon 
which he was put to the torture, by having lighted 
matches held between his fingers. This made him re- 
turn to what he had formerly said, so as to be a strong 
evidence against his mistress. His hands were so 
miserably scorched, that he was a piteous object. I 
asked him why he had committed such a crime ; he 
said, " Perche era senza spirito. Because I was with- 
out understanding." The lady seemed of a bold and 
resolute spirit. She spoke to me with great firmness, 
and denied her guilt, saying with a contemptuous smile, 
as she pointed to her servant, " They can force that 
creature to say what they please.'* 

VOlu X. Q 



226 JOHNSONIANA. 

Hangman of Corsica. 

The hangman of Corsica was a great curiosity. Being 
held in the utmost detestation, he durst not live like 
another inhabitant of the island. He was obliged to 
take refuge in the castle ; and there he was kept in a 
little corner turret, where he had just room for a miser- 
able bed, and a little bit of fire to dress such victuals for 
himself as were sufficient to keep him alive, for nobody 
would have any intercourse with him, but all turned 
their backs upon him. I went up and looked at him ; 
and a more dirty rueful spectacle I never beheld. He 
seemed sensible of his situation, and held down his head 
like an abhorred outcast. It was a long time before 
they could get a hangman in Corsica, so that the punish- 
ment of the gallows was hardly known, all their crimi- 
nals being shot. At last this creature whom I saw, 
who is a Sicilian, came with a message to Paoli. The 
General, who has a wonderful talent for physiognomy, 
on seeing the man, said immediately to some of the peo- 
ple about him, " Ecco il boia, Behold our hangman." 
He gave orders to ask the man if he would accept of 
the office, and his answer was, " My grandfather was a 
hangman; my father was a hangman ; I have been a 
hangman myself, and am willing to continue so." He 
was therefore immediately put into office, and the igno- 
minious death dispensed by his hands hath had more 
effect than twenty executions by fire-arms. 

Great Seal of Corsica. 
When I had seen every thing about Corte, I pre- 
pared for my journey over the mountains, that I might 
be with Paoli. The night before I set out, I recollected 
that I had forgotten to get a passport. After supper 
therefore the Prior walked with me to the house of the 
Great Chancellor, who ordered the passport to bt, made 
out immediately; and while his secretary was writing it, 



BOS WELL. 227 

entertained me by reading to me some of the minutes 
of the general consulta. When the passport was 
finished, and ready to have the seal put to it, I was 
much pleased with a beautiful, simple incident. The 
Chancellor desired a little boy who was playing in the 
room by us to run to his mother, and bring the great 
seal of the kingdom. I thought myself sitting in the 
house of a Cincinnatus. 

Next morning I set out in very good order, having 
excellent mules, and active, clever Corsican guides. The 
worthy fathers of the convent, who treated me in the 
r kindest manner while I was their guest, would also give 
me some provisions for my journey ; so they put up a 
gourd of their best wine, and some delicious pome- 
granates. My Corsican guides appeared so hearty, that 
I often got down and walked along with them, doing 
just what I saw them do. When we grew hungry, we 
threw stones among the thick branches of the chestnut 
trees which overshaded us, and in that manner we 
brought down a shower of chestnuts, with which we filled 
our pockets, and went on eating them with great relish ; 
and when this made us thirsty, we lay down by the 
side of the first brook, put our mouths to the stream, 
and drank sufficiently. It was just being for a little 
while one of the " prisca gens mortalium, the primitive 
race of men," who ran about in the woods eating acorns 
and drinking water. 

Belief in the Pope. 
While I stopped to refresh my mules at a little vil- 
lage, the inhabitants came crowding about me as an 
ambassador going to their general. When they were 
informed of my country, a strong black fellow among 
them said, " Inglese ! sono barbari ; non credono in 
Dio grande. English ! they are barbarians ; they don't 
believe in the great God.'* I told him, " Exusse me, 
Sir, we do believe in God, and in Jesus Christ too. 5 ' 
Q 2 



228 JOHNSONIANA. 

f Um," said he, "e nel Papa? And in the Pope? " 
"No." "E perche? And why ?" This was a 
puzzling question in these circumstances; for there 
was a great audience to the controversy, I thought I 
would try a method of my own, and very gravely re- 
plied, ce Perche siamo troppo lontani. Because we are 
too far off/' A very new argument against the uni- 
versal infallibility of the Pope. It took, however ; 
for my opponent mused awhile, and then said, " Troppo 
lontano ! La Sicilia e tanto lontana che lTnghilterra ; 
e in Sicilia si credono nel Papa. Too far off! Why 
Sicily is as far off as England. Yet in Sicily they be- 
lieve in the Pope." " O," said I, '* noi siamo died 
volte piu lontani che la Sicilia ! We are ten times 
farther off than Sicily/' " Aha ! " said he ; and seemed 
quite satisfied. In this manner I got off very well. 
I question much whether any of the learned reasonings 
of our protestant divines would have had so good an 
effect. 

BoswelVs Harangue at Bastelica. 

My journey over the mountains was very entertain- 
ing. I passed some immense ridges and vast woods. 
I was in great health and spirits, and fully able to 
enter into the ideas of the brave rude men whom I 
found in all quarters. At Bastelica, where there is a 
stately spirited race of people, I had a large company 
to attend me in the convent. I liked to see their natural 
frankness and ease ; for why should men be afraid of 
their own species ? They came in making an easy bow, 
placed themselves round the room where I was sitting, 
rested themselves on their muskets, and immediately 
entered into conversation with me. They talked very 
feelingly of the miseries that their country had endured, 
and complained that they were still but in a state of 
poverty. I happened at that time to have an unusual 
flow of spirits ; and as one who rinds himself amongst 



BOSWELL. 229 

utter strangers in a distant country has no timidity, I 
harangued the men of Bastelica with great fluency. I 
expatiated on the bravery of the Corsicans, by which 
they had purchased liberty, the most valuable of all 
possessions, and rendered themselves glorious over all 
Europe. Their poverty, I told them, might be reme- 
died by a proper cultivation of their island, and by 
engaging a little in commerce. But I bid them re- 
member, that they were much happier in their present 
state than in a state of refinement and vice, and that 
therefore they should beware of luxury. What I said 
had the good fortune to touch them, and several of them 
repeated the same sentiments much better than I could 
do. 

First Interview with Paolu 

When I at last came within sight of Sollacaro, where 
Paoli was, I could not help being under considerable 
anxiety * My ideas of him had been greatly heightened 
by the conversations I had held with all sorts of people 
in the island, they having represented him to me as 
something above humanity. I had the strongest desire 
to see so exalted a character ; but I feared that I should 
be unable to give a proper account why I had presumed 
to trouble him with a visit, and that I should sink to 
nothing before him. I almost wished to go back with- 
out seeing him. These workings of sensibility employed 
my mind till I rode through the village and came up to 
the house where he was lodged. Leaving my servant with 
my guides, I passed through the guards, and was met by 
some of the General's people, who conducted me into an 
ante- chamber, where were several gentlemen in waiting. I 
was shown into Paoli's room. I found him alone, and was 
struck with his appearance. He asked me what were my 
commands for him. I presented him a letter from Count 
Rivarola, and when he had read it, I showed him my 
letter from Rousseau. He was polite, but very reserved. 

Q 3 



230 JOHNSONIANA. 

I had stood in the presence of many a prince, but V 
never had such a trial as in the presence of Paoli. For 
ten minutes we walked backwards and forwards through 
the room, hardly saying a word, while he looked at me, 
with a steadfast, keen, and penetrating eye, as if he 
searched my very soul. This interview was for a 
while very severe upon me. I was much relieved when 
his reserve wore off, and he began to speak more. I 
then ventured to address him with this compliment to 
the Corsicans. " Sir, I am upon my travels, and have 
lately visited Rome. I am come from seeing the ruins 
of one brave and free people: I now see the rise of 
another." He received my compliment very graciously ; 
but observed that the Corsicans had no chance of being, 
like the Romans, a great conquering nation, who should 
extend its empire over half the globe. Their situation, 
and the modern political systems, rendered this im- 
possible. But, said he, Corsica may be a very happy 
country. 

Some of the nobles who attended him came into 
the room, and presently we were told that dinner 
was served up. The General did me the honour to 
place me next him. He had a table of fifteen or six- 
teen covers, having always a good many of the prin- 
cipal men of the island with him. He had an Italian 
cook, who had been long in France ; but he chose to 
have a few plain, substantial dishes, avoiding every 
kind of luxury, and drinking no foreign wine. I felt 
myself under some constraint in such a circle of heroes. 
The General talked a great deal on history and on litera- 
ture. I soon perceived that he was a fine classical 
scholar, that his mind was enriched with a variety of 
knowledge, and that his conversation at meals was in 
structive and entertaining. Before dinner he conversed 
in French. He now spoke Italian, in which he is very 
eloquent. We retired to another room to drink coffee. 
My timidity wore off. I no longer anxiously thought 



BOSWELL. 231 

oi myself : my whole attention was employed in listening 
to the illustrious commander of a nation. 

Great Attentions paid to BoswelL 

Paoli recommended me to the care of the Abbe Ros- 
tini, who had lived many years in France. Signor 
Colonna, the lord of the manor here, being from home, 
his house was assigned for me to live in. Every day I 
felt myself happier. Particular marks of attention were 
shown me as a subject of Great Britain, the report of 
which went over to Italy, and confirmed the conjectures 
that I was really an envoy. In the morning I had my 
chocolate served up upon a silver salver adorned with 
the arms of Corsica. I dined and supped constantly 
with the General. I was visited by all the nobility, and 
whenever I chose to make a little tour, I was attended 
by a party of guards. I begged of the General not to 
treat me with so much ceremony ; but he insisted upon 
it. One day when I rode out I was mounted on Paoli's 
own horse, with rich furniture of crimson velvet, with 
broad gold lace, and had my guards marching along 
with me. I allowed myself to indulge a momentary 
pride in this parade, as I was curious to experience what 
could really be the pleasure of state and distinction with 
which mankind are so strangely intoxicated. When I 
returned to the Continent after all this greatness, I used 
to joke with my acquaintance, and tell them that I 
could not bear to live with them, for they did not treat 
me with a proper respect. 

Paoli s English Library, 
I asked Paoli if he understood English. He imme- 
diately began and spoke it, which he did tolerably well. 
i was diverted with his English library. It consisted 
of some broken volumes of the Spectator and Tatler, 
Pope's Essay on Man, Gulliver's Travels, a History of 
France in old English, and Barclay's Apology for the 

Q 4 



232 JOHNSONIANA. 

Quakers. I promised to send him some English 
books. ( ] ) 

Boswelfs Corsican Dress. 
The ambasciadore Inglese, the English ambassador, 
as the good peasants and soldiers used to call me, be- 
came a great favourite among them. I got a Corsican 
dress made, in which I walked about with an air of true 
satisfaction. The General did me the honour to pre- 
sent me with his own pistols, made in the island, all of 
Corsican wood and iron, and of excellent workmanship. 
I had every other accoutrement. I even got one of the 
shells which had often sounded the alarm to liberty. I 
preserve them all with great care. 

Boswelfs German Flute, fyc. 
The Corsican peasants and soldiers were quite free 
and easy with me. Numbers of them used to come and 
see me of a morning, and just go out and in as they 
pleased. I did every thing in my power to make them 
fond of the British, and bid them hope for an alliance 
with us. They asked me a thousand questions about 
my country, all which I cheerfully answered as well as 
I could. One day they would needs hear me play upon 
my German flute. To have told my honest natural 
visitants, Really, gentlemen I play very ill, and put on 
such airs as we do in our genteel companies, would have 
been highly ridiculous. I therefore immediately com- 
plied with their request. I gave them one or two 
Italian airs, and then some of our beautiful old Scots tunes^ 
" Gilderoy," the " Lass of Patie's Mill/' " Corn rig^s 

(1)1 have sent him the works of Harrington, of Sidney, of 
Addison, of Trenchard, of Gordon, and of other writers in 
favour of liberty. 1 have also sent him some of our best books 
of morality and entertainment, in particular the works of Mr. 
Samuel Johnson, with a complete set of the Spectator, Tatler, 
and Guardian ; and to the University of Corte I have sent a 
few of the Greek and Roman classics, of the beautiful editions 
of the Messieurs Foulis at Glasgow. 



BOSWELL. 233 

are bonny." The pathetic simplicity and pastoral gaiety 
of the Scots music will always please those who have 
the genuine feelings of nature. The Corsicans were 
charmed with the specimens I gave them, though I may 
now say that they were very indifferently performed. 
My good friends insisted also to have an English song 
from me. 1 endeavoured to please them in this too, 
and was very lucky in that which occurred to me. I 
sung them — 

" Hearts of oak are our ships, 
Hearts of oak are our men." 

I translated it into Italian for them, and never did I 
see men so delighted with a song as the Corsicans were 
with Hearts of Oak. u Cuore di querco," cried they, 
i bravo Inglese." It was quite a joyous riot. I fancied 
myself to be a recruiting sea-officer. I fancied all my 
chorus of Corsicans aboard the British fleet. 

Independency of Corsica. 

Paoli talked very highly on preserving the independ- 
ency of Corsica. " We may," said he, " have foreign 
powers for our friends ; but they must be ( Amici 
fuori di casa. Friends at arm's length/ c We may 
make an alliance, but we will not submit ourselves to 
the dominion of the greatest nation in Europe. This 
people, who have done so much for liberty, would be 
hewn in pieces man by man, rather than allow Corsica 
to be sunk into the territories of another country. Some 
years ago, when a false rumour was spread that I had a 
design to yield up Corsica to the Emperor, a Corsican 
came to me, and addressed me in great agitation : — 
e What ! shall the blood of so many heroes, who have 
sacrificed their lives for the freedom of Corsica, serve 
only to tinge the purple of a foreign prince ! " ! I men- 
tioned to him the scheme of an alliance between Great 
Britain and Corsica. Paoli with politeness and dignity 



234 JOHNSONIANA. 

waved the subject, by saying, cc The less assistance we 
have from allies, the greater our glory." He seemed 
hurt by our treatment of his country. He mentioned 
the severe proclamation at the last peace, in which the 
brave islanders were called the Rebels of Corsica. He 
said with a conscious pride and proper feeling, — " Rebels ! 
1 did not expect that from Great Britain." He how- 
ever shewed his great respect for the British nation, and 
I could see he wished much to be in friendship with us. 
When I asked him what I could possibly do in return 
for all his goodness to me, he replied, cc Solamente 
disingannate il suo corte. Only undeceive your court. 
Tell them what you have seen here. They will be 
curious to ask you. A man come from Corsica will be 
like a man come from the antipodes/' 

Boswelts Melancholy. 

This kind of conversation led me to tell Paoli how 
much I had suffered from anxious speculations. With 
a mind naturally inclined to melancholy, and a keen 
desire of inquiry, I had intensely applied myself to 
metaphysical researches, and reasoned beyond my depth, 
on such subjects as it is not given to man to know. I 
told him I had rendered my mind a camera obscura, 
that in the very heat of youth I felt the " non est tanti," 
the " omnia vanitas" of one who has exhausted all the 
sweets of his being, and is weary with dull repetition. 
I told him that I had almost become for ever incapable 
of taking a part in active life. " All this," said Paoli, 
" is melancholy. I have also studied metaphysics. I 
know the arguments for fate and free-will, for the ma- 
ter i ah ty and immateriality of the soul, and even the 
subtile arguments for and against the existence of 
matter. Ma lasciamo queste dispute ai oziosi. But 
let us leave these disputes to the idle. Io tengo sempre 
fermo un gran pensiero. I hold always firm one great 
obj.ct. I never feel a moment of despondency/' The 



BOSWELL. 235 

contemplation of such a character really existing was 
of more service to me than all I had been able to draw 
from books, from conversation, or from the exertions of 
my own mind. I had often formed the idea of a man 
continually such as I could conceive in my best mo- 
ments. But this idea appeared like the ideas we are 
taught in the schools to form of things which may 
exist, but do not ,• of seas of milk, and ships of amber. 
But I saw my highest idea realised in Paoli. It was 
impossible for me, speculate as I pleased, to have a little 
opinion of human nature in him. 

Dr. Johnson. 

I gave Paoli the character of my revered friend Mr. 
Samuel Johnson. I have often regretted that illus- 
trious men, such as humanity produces a few times in 
the revolution of many ages, should not see each other ; 
and when such arise in the same age, though at the 
distance of half the globe, I have been astonished how 
they could forbear to meet. " As steel sharpeneth steel, 
so doth a man the countenance of his friend," says the 
wise monarch. What an idea may we not form of an 
interview between such a scholar and philosopher as 
Mr. Johnson, and such a legislator and general as Paoli ! 

I repeated to Paoli several of Mr. Johnson's sayings, 
so remarkable for strong sense and original humour. I 
now recollect these two. When I told Mr. Johnson 
that a certain author affected in conversation to main- 
tain, that there was no distinction between virtue and 
vice, he said, " Why, Sir, if the fellow does not think 
as he speaks, he is lying ; and I see not what honour 
he can propose to himself from having the character of 
a liar. But if he does really think that there is no dis- 
tinction between virtue and vice, why, Sir, when he 
leaves our houses let us count our spoons." Of modern 
infidels and innovators, he said, (i Sir, these are all 
vain men, and will gratify themselves at any expense. 



236 JOHNSONIANA. 

Truth will not afford sufficient food to their vanity ; so 
they have betaken themselves to error. Truth, Sir, is 
a cow which will yield such people no more milk, and 
so they are gone to milk the bull/' 

I felt an elation of mind to see Paoli delighted with 
the sayings of Mr. Johnson, and to hear him translate 
them with Italian energy to the Corsican heroes. I 
repeated Mr. Johnson's sayings, as nearly as I could, in 
his own peculiar forcible language, for which, preju- 
diced or little critics have taken upon them to find fault 
with him. He is above making any answer to them, 
but I have found a sufficient answer in a general re- 
mark in one of his excellent papers : — " Difference of 
thoughts will produce difference of language. He that 
thinks with more extent than another, will want words 
of larger meaning/ ' 

Last Day with Paoli. 
The last day which I spent with Paoli appeared of 
inestimable value. I thought him more than usually 
great and amiable when I was upon the eve of parting 
from him. The night before my departure a little in- 
cident happened which showed him in a most agreeable 
light. When the servants were bringing in the dessert 
after supper, one of them chanced to let fall a plate of 
walnuts. Instead of flying into a passion at what the 
man could not help, Paoli said, with a smile, " No 
matter/' And turning to me, " It is a good sign for 
you, Sir; tempus est spargere nuces, It is time to scatter 
walnuts. It is a matrimonial omen : you must go home 
to your own country, and marry some fine woman 
whom you really like. I shall rejoice to hear of it. 
This was a pretty allusion to the Roman ceremony at 
weddings, of scattering walnuts. So Virgil's Damon 
says, — 

" Mopse novas mcide faces : tibi ducitur uxor. 
Sparge marite nuces ; tibi deserit Hesperus CEtam." 



BOSWELL. 237 

" Thy bride comes forth ! begin the festal rites ! 
The walnuts strew ! prepare the nuptial lights ! 
O envied husband, now thy bliss is nigh ! 
Behold for thee bright Hesper mounts the sky ! " 

When I agun asked Paoli if it were possible for me in 
any way to show him my great respect and attachment, 
he replied, ee Ricordatevi che io vi sia amico, e scrive- 
temi. Remember that I am your friend, and write to 
me." I said I hoped that when he honoured me with 
a letter, he would write not only as a commander, but 
as a philosopher and a man of letters. He took me by 
the hand, and said, " As a friend/' I took leave of 
him with regret and agitation, not without some hopes 
of seeing him again. Even having known intimately 
so exalted a character, my sentiments of human nature 
were raised, while, by a sort of contagion, I felt an 
honest ardour to distinguish myself, and be useful, as 
far as my situation and abilities would allow ; and I was, 
for the rest of my life, set free from a slavish timidity 
in the presence of great men — for where shall I find 
a man greater than Paoli ? 

Return to Corte. 

When I set out from Sollacaro, I felt myself a good 
deal indisposed. The old house of Colonna, like the 
family of its master, was much decayed ; so that both 
wind and rain found their way into my bed-chamber. 
From this I contracted a severe cold, which ended in a 
tertian ague. There was no help for it. I might well 
submit to some inconveniences, where I had enjoyed so 
much happiness. I was accompanied a part of the road 
by a great swarthy priest, who had never been out of 
Corsica. He was a very Hercules for strength and re- 
solution. He and two other Corsicans took a castle 
garrisoned by no less than fifteen Genoese : indeed the 
Corsicans have such a contempt of their enemies, that 



238 JOHNSONIANA. 

I have heard them say, " Basterebbero le donne contra 
i Genovesi ? Our women would be enough against the 
Genoese!" This priest was a bluff, hearty, roaring 
fellow, troubled neither with knowledge nor care. He 
was ever and anon showing me how stoutly his nag 
could caper. He always rode some paces before me, 
and sat in an attitude half turned round, with his hand 
clapped upon the crupper. Then he would burst out 
with comical songs about the devil and the Genoese, and 
I don't know what all. In short, notwithstanding my 
feverishness, he kept me laughing whether I would 
or no. 

At Cauro I had a fine view of Ajaccio and its en- 
virons. My ague was some time of forming, so I had 
frequent intervals of ease, which I employed in observ- 
ing whatever occurred. I was lodged at Cauro, in the 
house of Signor Peraldi of Ajaccio, who received me 
with great politeness. I found here another provincial 
magistracy. Before supper, Signor Peraldi and a young 
Abbe of Ajaccio entertained me with some airs on the 
violin. After they had shown me their taste in fine 
improved music, they gave me some original Corsican 
airs ; and, at my desire, they brought up four of the 
guards of the magistracy, and made them show me a 
Corsican dance. It was truly savage. They thumped 
with their heels, sprung upon their toes, brandished 
their arms, wheeled and leaped with the most violent 
gesticulations. It gave me the idea of an admirable 
war dance. 

At Bogognano I came upon the same road I had 
formerly travelled from Corte, where I arrived safe 
after all my fatigues. My good fathers of the Fran- 
ciscan convent received me like an old acquaintance, 
and showed a kind of concern at my illness. My 
ague distressed me so much, that I was confined to the 
convent for several days. I did not however weary. 
I was visited by the Great Chancellor, and several 



BOSWELL. 239 

others of the civil magistrates, and by Padre Mariani, 
rector of the university, a man of learning and abilities ; 
as a proof of which, he had been three years at Madrid, 
in the character of secretary to the General of the Fran- 
ciscans. I remember a very eloquent expression of his 
on the state of his country. Ci Corsica/' said he, " has 
for many years past been bleeding at all her veins. They 
are now closed. But after being so severely exhausted, 
it will take some time before she can recover perfect 
strength." I was also visited by Padre Leonardo, of 
whose animating discourse I have made mention in a 
former part of this book. 

Indeed I should not have been at a loss, though my 
very reverend fathers had been all my society. I was 
not in the least looked upon as a heretic. Difference of 
faith was forgotten in hospitality. I went about the 
convent as if I had been in my own house ; and the 
fathers, without any impropriety of mirth, were yet as 
cheerful as I could desire. I had two surgeons to 
attend me at Corte, a Corsican and a Piedmontese ; and 
I got a little Jesuit's bark from the spiceria, or apothe- 
cary's shop, of the Capuchin convent. I did not, how- 
ever, expect to be effectually cured till I should get to 
Bastia. 

Letter to Dr. Johnson* 

On one of the days that my ague disturbed me 
least, I walked from the Franciscan convent to Corte, 
purposely to write a letter to Mr. Samuel Johnson. 
I told my revered friend, that from a kind of super- 
stition agreeable in a certain degree to him, as well 
as to myself, I had, during my travels, written to him 
from loca solennia, places in some measure sacred. 
That as I had written to him from the tomb of Me- 
lancthon ( ] ), sacred to learning and piety, I now wrote 

(1) [See ante, Vol. VI. p. 255.] 



240 JOHNSONIANA. 

to him from the palace of Pascal Paoli, sacred to wis- 
dom and liberty ; knowing that, however his political 
principles may have been represented, he had always 
a generous zeal for the common rights of humanity. I 
gave him a sketch of the great things I had seen in 
Corsica, and promised him a more ample relation. Mr. 
Johnson was pleased with what I wrote here; for I 
received at Paris an answer from him, which I keep as 
a valuable charter : — " When you return, you will re- 
turn to an unaltered, and, I hope, an unalterable friend. 
All that you have to fear from me is the vexation of 
disappointing me. Come home, however, and take 
your chance. I long to see you, and to hear you ; and 
hope that we shall not be so long separated again. 
Come home, and expect such a welcome as is due to 
him, whom a wise and noble curiosity has led where, 
perhaps, no native of this country ever was before/' 



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